


Four Weddings (& a Funeral)

by SapphireBlueJiyuu



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, F/M, Family Drama, Light Angst, Romantic Drama, Series Spoilers, Unreqainted Romance
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-06-13
Updated: 2013-07-23
Packaged: 2017-12-14 20:18:49
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 6
Words: 25,578
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/840963
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SapphireBlueJiyuu/pseuds/SapphireBlueJiyuu
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"I have loved to the point of madness; that which is called madness, that which to me, is perhaps the only sensible way to love..."</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. [Prologue] Call It What You Will

**Author's Note:**

> These tags will change eventually. It's still too early in the story to tell if there will be spoilers I need to warn people about. I just hope you guys stick around to read the rest. Thanks. Enjoy.

“You Baratheons and your bizarre obsessions with Starks. I will never understand the appeal.”

“I wouldn't call it an obsession, really. It's more like... a _fascination_.”

“Oh, don't make it sound like there is _anything_ even remotely interesting about a severe pack of surly Northerners.”

“Now, mother, you promised-”

“Yes, yes, yes, I know! You don't have to take that tone with me young lady. Besides, you should have more _dignity_ than to pine after a man that is already taken.”

Myrcella knew this to be true, but she just couldn't help herself. Her Uncle Jamie said once, in passing, that we can't choose who we fall in love with. No one knows this fact more than her Uncle Jamie. And herself.

* * *

 

It was at the charity ball that she met him for the first time. He looked devilishly stunning in a dark gray suit, shiny leather loafers, and deep blue tie. The tie pin was carved in the shape of a wolf's head. And his arm was adorned with a pretty brunette. She was older than Myrcella and, most likely, more worldly than her, despite the fact that the young Baratheon had traveled almost the entire globe by the time she was 11. The man in question and his date were introduced to her by her father. Robb Stark, her father had said, was the youngest up and coming CEO of Stark Industries and that he was graduating from Last Hearth University at the top of his class later that year. All that was nice to know yet the only thing Myrcella could bring herself to focus on was the way the girl next to him (she couldn't even bring herself to care what her name was) kept curling her witch like nails around his arm, kept fussing over the handkerchief in his breast pocket, kept sending that sickeningly wanton smile at him. Myrcella could not understand why the woman was rubbing her in all the wrong ways but she did and her presence grated at Myrcella's nerves to the point that her brother began teasing her, saying that her “Cersei sneer” was coming out. Myrcella took that opportunity to get some fresh air out on the balcony of the old meeting hall.

She relished in the brief reprieve from the diplomats, and businessmen, and politicians, and celebrities. All those fake smiles and bland courtesies. There was only so much that Mrycella could take in one sitting. The cool winds of the winter evening caressed her cheeks and arms as she took a deep breath of Northern air. It surrounded her and chilled her to the core until she was standing frozen under the moonlight.

“If you stay out here any longer, you might end up being a permanent guest of this meeting hall.” The voice of the devil in an angel's disguise, sent to this charity ball to drive Myrcella to distraction. The air thinned considerably when he walked up behind her, the heat from his body radiating off of him. His voice held warmth too.

“Oh, gods I hope not; I don't think I can stand another moment here.” Myrcella's reply was laced with chattering teeth that vibrated across her shivering form.

The weight of a thick dinner jacket slumped over her shoulders, instantly thawing her from the inside out. She inclined her head slightly, a ghost of a smile gracing her porcelain features, to thank him. It smelled like aftershave and something that was distinctly him. She pulled the wool jacket into herself just a bit more.

They didn't say anything else after that, just enjoyed each other's company as the night waned on. And when her mother called her back into the party, Myrcella took off his jacket, that served as a cloak for her against the bitter chill, and handed it back to him. Immediately, the cold returned to her body. It slipped inside of her, cooling her soul that was, just moments earlier, comforted by his presence. He was the embodiment of the north and its winds. And just like a winter gale, he will undoubtedly slip through her fingers.

And as she made her way inside, Myrcella was thankful for the cold winds for violently reminding her that he was not hers to have.


	2. The Three Sisters Wedding

The summer months brought summer weddings into the fold of Myrcella's life and there was hardly a weekend where she wasn't present for someone's nuptials. This last week it was the Mallery's oldest son's wedding, the week prior to that was the Semly's son and a daughter of the Crays, the week before that was the Hayford's second daughter's third marriage (or was it their third daughter's second marriage?). All of these weddings, maybe a party for the bride and groom but it was just a front really for the heads of the houses to hold company meetings off the clock (and off the books). This week was a Mormont wedding, being held off the coast White Harbor on one of the islands. There was a June storm brewing up north so Bear Island was not going to be an ideal place for an outdoor wedding, thus they chose the Island of the Three Sisters. Stepping off the ferry that transported the Baratheon family from the harbor, Myrcella took a long look over the bay, at the curve in the earth that disappeared into the water and the houses the dot the landscape of the island, at the sea of boats that bobbed upon the ocean, at the horizon that swallows the edges of that ocean and the sky so that they may touch for all eternity.

A large seaplane came into view just over the hilltops of the island and made a smooth landing over the water about a hundred or so feet from where the boats were docked.

“Ah, looks like Ned just got in too.” Robert said as he climbed out looking over towards the bird that just landed. Sure enough, the head of house Stark was the first to step foot on the wooden pier, turning around slightly to help his wife. Ned Stark's oldest son too accompanied the heads of House Stark, with what seemed like the same brunette from last time Myrcella met them. Sighing, she turned around and saw Joffrey watching her, his eyes boring into her as if he was trying to get to the bottom of something. It made Myrcella's skin crawl.

“What?”

Joffrey said nothing. He walked back to their mother's side and only spared one glance at the Stark's direction before walking off. Tommen looked up at his sister and asked if she was okay. Myrcella gave him a tight smile before nodding. This was going to be a long day.

* * *

 

The ceremony was a humble one, as simple and traditional as the Mormonts were in character. The “private” wedding hosted a little over 300 guests on the bluff overlooking Gust Bay. The luxury resort, though, spared no expense. The entire reception hall was decorated with winter roses, snow berries, and garlands made with fresh pine. A winter fantasy land of white that had a warm Christmas scent to it. Myrcella couldn't help but smile as she took in a deep breath.

A gruff voice came from behind her when she made her way through the crowd towards the refreshments table. “If I didn't know any better, Miss Myrcella, I would be lead to believe that you were avoiding me.”

Myrcella whirled around to come face to face with an who had occupied the better part of her dreams. His arm ornament was not with him.

Mrycella wasn't sure what made her more sick: the fact that he sought her out on his own (despite coming with a date) or that she was glad that he did.

“By avoiding, you mean ducking out of the room whenever you enter, wrap myself up in a conversation with everyone else but you, and not making eye contact then... yes, I have been avoiding you.” Myrcella schooled her face to reveal nothing before she was sure he might be doubting whether she was joking or not.

Robb's face was crestfallen.

Myrcella allowed herself to smile then. “How have you been, Mr. Stark?”

“ _Mr_. _Stark?_ Mr. Stark is my father. Please call me Robb.”

“Only if you stop with this _'Miss'_ nonsense.”

“Myrcella then,” Robb returned her smile, “And I have been well. Though I can't say the same for my girlfriend. She doesn't fair well on the water. Or in the sky. Or on the road for long periods of time. Let's just say she doesn't do transportation in general.”

“Poor thing. And you all had quite a trip here as well.” Myrcella felt petty at the thrill that hummed through her body when she heard that his date couldn't stomach a little thing as transportation. Shame brewed just under the pride that swelled in her chest. “Did she not have any motion sickness pills with her? I'm sure the docks have some for sale.”

“She didn't want to fall asleep during the ceremony.”

“That's quite understandable. Seeing as how _enthralling_ the ceremony was, it's a wonder why I had to keep pinching myself to stay awake.”

Robb's laughter was wonderfully musical; a deep rumble of baritone would be a close estimation of it.

“You don't like weddings?” His eyes were alight with curiosity.

“Oh, I like weddings just fine. But after being to five- no, _six_ \- of them in a roll, it begins to loose its luster.”

“Your family... has a lot of family?” Robb ventured, taking a sip of his drink.

“Business partners. I'm sure that's why your father is here today, as well. I think they're trying to broker a new deal with the Baratheon company and the Northern industries.”

Robb's eyes went wide. “You can't be serious? At a _wedding_?”

“That's the only reason why my father's here. That and the free scotch.” Myrcella gestured to the drink in Robb's tumbler.

“Huh.” He looked around the packed ball room. The men in their fine suits and their game faces stood out like a sore thumb. Myrcella was surprised that Robb didn't notice it before. “You're right,” Robb said in awe before he grinned wolfishly at her, “they reek of profit.”

Right then, an ashen faced woman who looked strikingly familiar, came up to them and gave a weary smile. “Robb, your father is looking for you.”

“Hey, hon, how are you feeling? Better at all?” Robb placed a reassuring arm around the woman in question. _'Ah, that must be his date.'_

Myrcella placed on the warmest smile in her arsenal.

“Oh, forgive me, uh... Talisa, this is Mrycella Baratheon. Her father, Robert, and my father go way back.”

“Old war buddies-” Myrcella supplied.

“and high school sweethearts, before that.” Robb finished, they both laughed remembering Robert and Ned introducing each other in just that manner a hundred times before.

“Myrcella, this my lovely girlfriend, Talisa Maegyr.” Talisa smiled as earnestly as perhaps her stomach could allow.

“Oh, it's a pleasure to meet you, Myrcella. Robb has told me so much about your work.”

Before she could express her surprise, Robb cut in, “I'm usually in the room when Robert talks to my father about Joffrey, Tommen, and yourself.”

Talisa looked at Robb with an odd expression before she said, “Weren't you also at a seminar a couple of months ago that Myrcella spoke at?”

Myrcella turned towards the man in front of her, “You were at the Baratheon business conference?”

“Yes, but I didn't get to stay very long. I had an early flight out from King's Landing International the next say so I didn't get to stay for any of the panels after yours and Robert's.” Robb answered sheepishly.

Myrcella nodded, feeling a bit self conscious about the panel she lead early that morning a few months earlier. Business was never her forte but her father had said to her in confidence that he never wanted Joffrey to take over the the family business. That he had always intended for Myrcella to be the one to take it over because she had a head for the game and the drive to see it through. But it was never what she wanted. Just because she excelled in it, she never took any pleasure from it, not like her father did, not like her mother did.

“Well, I would love to stay and chat more, but Ned will be waiting for us. It was a pleasure, Myrcella.” Talisa was half dragging, half leaning on Robb as she made her way back through the crowd.

Robb threw an apologetic smile over his shoulder before allowing Talisa to drag him back into the throng of people.

The rest of the evening was mildly uneventful. The businessmen had disappeared from the group of wedding goers to “smoke cigars” outside and the festivities were in full swing. Myrcella joined Tommen, Sansa Stark, and Meera Reed on the dance floor, laughing and dancing to airy light music that was playing. Sansa had been trying to wheedle information out of Myrcella the whole night about Joffrey, but Myrcella wouldn't budge, skirting around the subject or just ignoring it entirely by diverting the topic towards other matters. It seemed to work for the most part, but Myrcella noticed that the Reed girl would give her knowing looks every time they would come around to the subject again.

Sansa had made her way back to the Stark family table when Meera said pointedly, “You don't like your older brother.” It was a statement more than it was a question.

Myrcella looked at Tommen for a moment making sure he was distracted by the pretty desserts table before answering, “It seems as though I gave all my love to my youngest brother and that there was simply no room left in my heart for anyone else.”

Meera smiled at her, a smile that could very well resemble that of cat that just ate a canary. “I can understand that.”

“Do you have any siblings?”

“A younger brother, Jojen, I love him fiercely. And for a while I thought that maybe I couldn't love anyone else. How could I, when all that I've been living for is his happiness?” Meera smiled when she looked over towards the Stark table and saw a tall, gangly boy with the same secretive crooked smile as Meera talking with one of Sansa's younger brothers.

“But...” Meera started and then drifted off with a small smile gracing her young features.

Myrcella waited for her to continue but the large double doors opened to allow the spill of finely dressed businessmen back into the reception. As discreetly as they may have wanted to be, they were hardly successful. The displeasure on the bride's face was apparent. Myrcella could sympathize, but the girl in white should have known.

Just then, the maid of honor asked a list of people to come up to the stage and share some thoughts and memories about the bride and groom. Among the list, was her father. She watched him make his way up to the podium and line up with the rest of the others.

The words that shared were sweet and funny and romantic, just like they always were. Myrcella's attention was divided though. She kept looking over towards the Stark table and saw Robb and his _lovely_ Talisa, speaking in harsh whispers, anger and resentment glazed her pale features, and Robb... he looked confused and frustrated. Talisa then, as gracefully as she could stormed out of the reception hall just as Myrcella's father took the stage.

Myrcella's gut twisted. She hated herself for feeling gleeful at the sight. Perhaps she was going to live her life completely alone; the price she will have to pay in order to atone for her sinful desires and treacherous thoughts.

Robert made his way to the microphone smiling at the crowd of people. “What a night, huh? What is marriage? It's a union. It's a holy bond. It's a wonderful institution you have in which two people fall deeply in love with each other. It's a covenant. It's a contract." Robert paused for a moment, as if he lost his train of thought, "What do we know about contracts?" And everytime he feels lost, Robert always swings back to what he knows; business. "Well, we know that they're pretty lousy vehicles for making people happy, I'll tell you that for free. One party feels like they're getting the short end of the stick and before you know it people start to lawyer up. So try telling that to someone that believes marriage is a sacred bond, you might as well explain baseball to a dog but at least the dog will bring the ball back to you and you can pat it on its head. I mean what is marriage, _really_? Is it running around Essos and vacationing on the islands off the coasts of Drone? No, it's pushing a cart down the aisles at the hardwood store. That's what it is: It's hard work. Hard, hard, _hard_ work, people, let me tell you.” Myrcella nearly fell over at her father's long winded speech. Mummers started breaking out amongst the guest as an awkward ambiance settled over the reception hall. Myrcella looked over towards her mother and noticed that her eyes were glazed over. _Yep, she's not even here right now._

And he wasn't done yet.

“And in the spirit of holy matrimony and love and all that, I have spoke with Ned Stark about enriching Baratheon Corporations by merging our dealing with Stark Industries. And to seal the deal, I would have the honor of officially announcing the union of both company and family. Upon Joffrey's graduation from KL University, he will come of age to oversee our new sister company King's North Corporations with his new betrothal, Sansa Stark.”

Myrcella's stomach dropped. Her father kept talking but it was drowned out by the pounding of her heart. Sweet Sansa Stark marrying the monster of a brother of hers? No one could possibly understand the torment that she will have to endure. Myrcella wanted to scream out in protest, to put a stop to this. How could her father subject anyone to the all malevolence that Joffrey possessed, let alone someone as good as Sansa? Sansa didn't deserve to be stuck with someone so cruel, someone that wasn't even human, completely incapable of love.

As if knowing of her thoughts, Myrcella felt a hand softly fall atop her's. Meera smiled at her in empathy and Myrcella felt herself slowly begin to calm her waring heart. The Reed girl's presence seemed to do that to everyone she's around. She knew – they _both_ knew – there is nothing that can be done now. Not when her father so publicly announced the match.

And just when it seemed as though everything couldn't get any worse, Robb walked back in, arm in arm with Talisa.

Yes, it appeared as though the Gods were not going to go easy on Myrcella at all.  

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks so much for all the support so far guys! I hope you all enjoy this chapter. Robert's speech was inspired by Nate Ford's wedding speech from Leverage. Let me know what you guys think of this chapter! :D


	3. The Harrenhal Wedding

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is dedicated to my muse, **Gera** ( _cerberus-angel_ ) whose drabble set, "Endless Waltz", has been the pinnacle of inspiration for me. If you haven't read it yet, I highly recommend it! :D

“When did it start?” Cersei was into her third cup of wine when she had asked Myrcella to join her. Myrcella sighed before she grabbed another glass and poured herself a generous portion. They were staying at Harrenhal Resort for the weekend, a mini vacation of sorts. (There were rumors that Harrenhal was haunted but the young couple thought it would be fun to have a modern, spooky wedding.) Blackwood's youngest daughter was to be wed to the only son of Myrcella's late second cousin Darry Lannister and so her entire family was there to represent the Lannister House. Even Myrcella's grandfather, Tywin, was there for the occasion.

“I don't know,” Myrcella shrugged indifferently. “It's like whenever he's around, there's this... pull. I can't... I can't find the right word to describe it. Like...”

“Like he's playing a song only you can hear? Like he could be the most arrogant, self-rightous idiot and you would still think that the sun was shining out of his ass?” Cersei's voice was full of remorse.

Myrcella watched her mother intently before she carefully nodded. She knew that her mother didn't feel that way about her father but she never had anyone else either. Her father and her mother married young and Myrcella never saw any old photographs of Cersei's ex-boyfriends or heard stories of any of them. Maybe it was an old flame that just never went out. Her mother was a fairly secretive person, more paranoid than her other siblings but still Cersei had always made it a point to be as supportive of her father as she could, even if it was mostly out of fear. Even if her father had the tendency to shamelessly flirt with anything in a skirt, some of the time right in front of her mother. Myrcella mused to herself as to what kind of husband Robb would be. Would he be a cruel man like Joffrey? Would he have bouts of violent tendencies like her father? Would be cold like her grandfather Tywin?

Or would he be different?

“You are so _human_ , you know that.” Cersei said, pouring herself a fourth glass (Myrcella had stopped trying to get her mother to regulate her alcohol intake because the last time she did, Cersei got so violently mad at her, Myrcella could some times still feel the phantom sting of the slap). “You always want what you cannot have.”

Myrcella walked over to the window that looked out onto the ocean below. It was too dark to see the water, so the mass looked like the night sky had poured black ink onto horizon, and filled all that it touched with darkness.

“I hear that the _young wolf_ is going to propose to his lovely girlfriend.” Cersei's words were placid enough, but they cut Myrcella like ice in a snowstorm.

“Your father never loved me. Not even when we first got married. But I smiled for the cameras, showered him with kisses, danced with him all night long. But I knew exactly what I was getting myself into. Your grandfather had hoped to merge Baratheon Corporations with Lannister Company and so I was the bargaining chip.” Cersei walked over to where Myrcella was standing and gently stroked her long golden hair, “At least three good things came out of this wreck of a marriage.”

Myrcella looked up at her mother and felt pity for the woman in front of her. She may be manipulative, harsh, and paranoid to a fault but she had never stopped loving Myrcella, even during her rebellious teenage years, even when she decided to quit business school and join the Peace Corps, not even when Myrcella fell in love with a Stark. “I feel like I am doomed to always let you down.”

Cersei didn't say anything at first, simply looked at her daughter before draining her cup. “Well, at least we know that you're your father's daughter for sure now.” Myrcella didn't even wince; her entire being was numb. She walked towards the door of her mother's hotel room and placed her untouched wine on the table.

 

* * *

 

It was truly a spooky place, Harrenhal Resort. Perhaps it had once looked regal but now, when it was brightly lit like it was at night, the place would have a strange air about it. As if all in the universe was not right. It wasn't so bad in the morning though and Myrcella was grateful for that since the sun was out. She decided to go people watching downstairs before the ceremony later that afternoon. She grabbed her worn copy of The Lord of the Rings and walked down to the lobby. She settled herself onto one of the lounge chairs on the patio outside the resort restaurant and ordered herself a cup of tea before settling back into the chair and pulled out the bookmark, resuming Frodo's journey.

“Your tea, ma'am.”

“Thank you,” Myrcella looked up to see a familiar pair of Tully blue eyes look back at her. “Oh, Robb. I didn't know that, apart from helping your father run Stark Industries, you are also a part-time waiter at Harrenhal Resort.”

Robb graced her with his baritone laughter once again, “Well, don't tell any of the other patrons this but I only serve Myrcella Baratheon.” He winked at her before gesturing if he could sit with her. Myrcella forced down her blush before nodding.

“No Talisa today?” Myrcella found herself asking before she could stop herself.

“No. She's back home celebrating her mother's birthday.” Robb answered taking his cellphone out and placing it on the table. “So, what part are you on?”

Myrcella looked down at her book before answering,“Uhm, Frodo just woke up in the House of Elrond.”

Robb nodded. “So, they haven't actually started their journey yet.”

Myrcella nodded, “Yea. It's funny I've always gotten distracted every time I get to this part of the book. Almost like... I don't know... like, I also haven't actually started on my journey either.”

Robb grinned. “How old are you?”

“Twenty-one.”

“Twenty-one? Yeah, you don't need about why you haven't started your journey yet. You're still so young!”

Myrcella wrinkled her nose. “I'm not _that_ young.”

Robb laughed at that. “Well, take it from someone who is _not_ twenty-one. You're exactly where you need to be.” His smile suggested something more than comfort but perhaps Myrcella was imagining things.

Robb leaned forward when Myrcella picked up her steaming cup of tea. “Hey... I heard this place is haunted.That the owners were burnt alive within the first few years of the opening. A rival business trying to crush the competition and all that. "

"That's the rumor." Myrcella quipped, curious as where he was taking this.

"They've blocked off the the east wing of the resort and said that it's cursed. That employees that have ventured into the prohibited area, were reported missing and were never found again. And, lately, some of the guests whose rooms are near that area have reported that they've heard strange noises in the night. That the voices of the lost employees would whine insistently, begging for anyone to come and save them.” His tone was dripping with intrigue and Myrcella caught herself leaning into his rich voice.

“So?”

Robb's eyes glitter with playfulness. “So... wanna go ghost hunting?”

 

* * *

 

The east wing of the hotel was, as Robb had said, blocked off by a large wooden door that seem to have been erected after the original hall was built. Dust had collected on the floor right in front of the door, leaving no signs that it had been opened in a long time. Myrcella was keeping close to Robb purely out of nervousness and not at all because the scent of his cologne was intoxicating. She looked around and noticed the entire area was deserted. There weren't even security cameras.

Walking up to the door, Robb tried the knob and found it locked.

“Oh, well, I guess we tried. Let's go back, Robb.” Myrcella tried to force the anxiety from her voice but she wasn't very successful. And Robb smiled in response.

“Do you see this?” Robb pointed at the keyhole and watched as Myrcella moved closer to get a better look at what he was talking about. “There are nicks and scratch marks around the key hole. Which means that people have tried to pick the lock before.”

“And maybe they couldn't.”

“But what if they did?” He pulled out a paper clip and a mini screwdriver out of his breast pocket and went to work at the lock. “Just keep a look out for me.” _Had he planned to do this all along and was just waiting for the right person to sucker into being his accomplice?_

The thought of being the one he chose, thrilled her. 

“Robb, we're not teenagers. We can get arrested for trespassing.”

“Aw, come on, Cella. Where's your sense of adventure?”

Myrcella eye twitched as she brought her large book in front of his face. “Right here.”

Robb shot her the most pathetic puppy dog look before pouting. “Please. I promise if anything pops out at us, I'll protect you.”

“I don't need protecting. I need to get back to the room so that I can change for the wedding.” She didn't want to admit it but even through her nervousness, she was quite excited about the prospect of a risky venture.

“Why? You look good already?” His earnest tone made her eyes narrow.

“This isn't-”

“Please?” She didn't want to admit that Robb pleas actually turned her on more than it should. She schooled her face into a blasé expression before turned around and popped her head around the corner to make sure none of the staff walked by. “Make it quick, Stark.”

“You got it!” Myrcella didn't have to see his face to hear the grin in his response.

Minutes passed with only the tinkering of Robb's tools hard at work making the slightest noise. It was a slight comfort that Robb wasn't as apt with lock-picking as he made himself seem. At one point, he even started to mutter to himself, trying to work through both his excitement and frustrations.

Then the sound of an audible click echoed in the small corridor. Myrcella turned around to see Robb's face light up. He tucked his tools into his pocket before he offered his hand to her, “Let's go.”

The hall behind the door looked identical to the one on the other side, confirming to Myrcella that the door was built afterward. The lights here were only on on half of the wall, which was only the first half closest to the door. Further down the corridor, the lights were not lit, leaving an eerie atmosphere as the door closed behind them.

“Ready?” Robb asked, giving Myrcella's hand a reassuring squeeze.

She nodded and they began their dissent into the darkness. Robb pulled out his cellphone to give them some much need light. “Do you even know where you're going?”

“Nope,” his smile did not sooth her as it usually did, “But that's part of the fun. Just have a little faith and I'm sure we'll–”

A whine ripped through the silence, startling both of them. They froze in the just a few feet from the bend in the corridor. Myrcella's heart was pounding in her chest and all she wanted to do was grab Robb arm and make a mad dash for the door but instead she waited. And sure enough, another whine came from just beyond the light of where they were standing. Robb took his cellphone and adjusted the light around the corner.

There, glowing in the darkness, was a pair of yellow eyes.

Myrcella was about to say something but her voice came out in a hiss. Swallowing thickly, she took a deep breath before she whispered, “Is that – is that a dog? Please tell me it's just a dog.”

Robb squinted his eyes and slowly began to nod, “Yeah, it is. And it looks like the little guy's stuck under something.” Making his way towards the whining pup, Myrcella followed wearily. As they approached it, more whining started to fill the area. They looked around and saw no other source for which the whining was coming from. The tires of an old golf cart was busted and the cart itself slumped atop a giant Malamute Husky, her pups stuck underneath the cart. Robb handed his cellphone to Myrcella to hold up for him as unbuttoned his cuffs to roll up his sleeves. Getting a grip of the back end of the cart, Robb turned to Myrcella, “Okay, I'm going to pick up the cart–”

“Wait? What?! How are you going to–” As strong as Robb may look, he couldn't possibly be strong enough to hold the cart up himself.

“Myrcella, these pups are not going to make it if we don't help them."

“But you can't hold up the cart long enough to get them all out. You don't even know how many of them there are.”

“Should we take a roll call?”

Myrcella was not amused. “I saw a maintenance closet on the way in. Maybe I can find something to help you prop it up.”

She handed the cellphone back to Robb before she turned towards the whining puppies. “Just hang in there little ones. I'll be right back.” Then she dashed back around the corner and yanked open the door that read “Maintenance/ Employees Only” Inside she saw a wide array of old cleaning supplies, hotel towels, and toiletries. Then under a rusty sink, Myrcella saw two buckets of paint. Dusting off the handles that were filled with cobwebs, she grabbed one in each hand and made her way back to Robb.

When she got there, she saw that Robb had managed to pull out one of the puppies on his own. It's fur was as white as snow and his eyes were a rose-colored gold.

“Guess we found the ghost.” Robb said while he stroked its fur.

Myrcella placed the cans of paint onto the floor and turned back to Robb as he gently placed the puppy on the floor. Making his way back to the golf cart, the whining became insistent as the puppies grew impatient seeing their brother was free. He took his position once again in front of the back bumper, “Ready?”

Myrcella gripped one of the cans of paint, ready to slide it under the cart once he picked it up off the floor. “Yeah.”

“One... two... three!” The cart's back end hovered above the ground for a second as the can of paint appeared under it to catch its weight.

Walking over to the front of the cart, Robb took a deep breath before he started the count again. The second can of paint slid into place there and out crawled five fluffy puppies, all with different shades of fur.

“Six. Six puppies. It's a good thing you thought about getting those cans. That cart was a lot heavier than I thought it would be. Thank you, for that.” Robb smiled as he picked up three tiny puppies easily.

Myrcella was happy that it was too dark or else he would see how pink her ears got. “It was nothing. I'm just glad they got out. I wonder how they got under that thing in the first place.”

“They probably weren't there for very long. Most likely living off of their mother's milk until she died. Look how skinny they are.” Robb placed the pups back on the floor before he took off his large dinner jacket. Picking up each of them as lightly as he could, he placed as many of them as he could on top of his jacket. “Would you mind carrying two of them?” Robb asked as he walked over to pick up his discarded cellphone and pocketed it. Myrcella nodded adjusting her book under her arm and cradling the white puppy and a gray one in each arm. She spared one last glance at the deceased Husky and thought how sad it was that they couldn't take her too. At least to bury her properly. Myrcella made a mental note to let the staff know about the dog before it started to stink up the area.

“Are you going to keep them?”

Robb nodded pensively, “I was thinking about it. I know my brother and sisters would love to have dogs and my father use to have a dog so I'm sure he would be okay with it. What about you? Do you want one?” Robb asked as they made their way back to the lit corridor.

Myrcella shook her head. “My mother hates dogs. My brother has three kittens at home and I think that's more than enough pets for my house.”

Myrcella grabbed the handle for the door whilst juggling the two puppies and looked out around the door to see if anyone was there. Seeing as it was clear, she motioned for Robb to follow with the large bundle. They tried their best to be inconspicuous as they walked towards the elevator. Punching the 'up' arrow with her elbow, Myrcella waited with Robb impatiently. Just as the door dinged, an elderly couple rounded the corner and asked for them to hold the door. Robb stood in the elevator threshold as he waited for the elderly couple to board the lift. Once inside, Robb went to stand next to Myrcella.

“Uhm, sorry, would you mind pressing '16' for us.” Robb asked the lady who was standing next to the elevator buttons.

Myrcella assumed they were going to Robb's floor to drop off the puppies.

Noticing that the couple was staring at them awkwardly, Robb broke the silence and said, “Our dog just had puppies.”

“Oh, how nice. They're so cute. Aren't they cute, Tom?” the lady replied.

“What the those two or the dogs?” Tom asked back.

Tom's wife thought for a second before saying pointedly, “Both.”

Tom rolled his eyes before he sighed consession, “Yes, dear. They are all cute. Makes me think about when we were younger and off making little puppies of our own.”

Tom's wife blushed prettily and playfully hit Tom's arm as they approached their floor. Myrcella's face was ablaze and even though she could feel Robb staring at her, she couldn't bring herself to meet his gaze.

The couple stepped off the lift but turned around just the the doors closed, “You two have a nice vacation.”

“Likewise.” Robb hollered back.

There was a beat of silence before they both started to awkwardly laugh. “I'm so sorry. When I said “our dog” I had hoped that it would save us having to explain the whole thing.”

“It's okay. It's fine. You don't have to explain.” Myrcella smiled at him. Robb smiled sheepishly in return and Myrcella felt her heart race just a little bit.

They elevator doors slid open and they made it their way towards his room which was at the end of the hall. Robb kicked at the door a few times and waited as his two younger brothers answered. Their eyes widened to the size of dinner plates.

“Myrcella, this is Jon and Bran. Boys, be nice to Myrcella. She brought you puppies.” Robb said with a cheeky grin.

 

* * *

 

After they dropped off the puppies into Robb, Jon, and Bran's room, Myrcella excused herself to get ready for the wedding. Making her way back up to the suite floor, Myrcella allowed herself only a small smile at the prospect of seeing Robb again that evening. Once back in the privacy of her own room, her small smile morphed into an all out giggle fest.

' _Oh, you are going to pay for that._ ' Myrcella thought to herself as she jumped into the shower. Her quiet afternoon turned out to be quite the adventure and she had Robb to thank for that. She smiled remembering how warm his hand felt grasping hers. And even the tiny compliments that he had paid her, left her head feeling fuzzy.

Riding the high of spending the afternoon in bliss, Myrcella answered the door when she heard her mother knock. Cersei narrowed her eyes at her daughter before asking where she went off to that afternoon.

“I was reading and having tea in the restaurant downstairs. It was very relaxing.” Myrcella said smoothly. Cersei's eyes were trained on her daughter as she flitted around her hotel room, putting on the last touches of her outfit before grabbing her clutch and joining the rest of her family who were waiting outside her room. She walked down to the evening ceremony with Tommen regaling her adventure to him in hushed tones while her parents and Joffrey consumed themselves in a heated discussion about the new sister company.

The ceremony was to take place in the reception hall. All the guests were to be seated at their dinner tables as the bride and groom exchange their vows. The ceremony itself was entertaining and creative. Myrcella had to admit that this was definitely one of the more fun weddings she had been to. As the night grew dark, the dancing started and the dance floor was filled with people. They hoisted the bride and groom onto throne-like chairs and danced them around the room, singing along to romantic oldies, and just have a grand ol' time.

Robb slithered up to Myrcella who was looking on from afar, not wanting to get trampled by the horde of people who were parading around with the newlyweds. "So it seems that my father was okay with the pups. Said that the young ones had to take care of the dogs themselves but that they were free to keep them if they wanted. My mum was a bit peeved though. She thinks our house isn't big enough for four dogs."

"Just four?"

"Yeah, Jon and I don't live at home anymore. So it'll be just the four." Robb said as he smiled at the bride and groom who passed by them, waving like they were entertainers on parade floats. 

"Have you named them yet?" Myrcella asked.

"Ah! So, I retold the story of our adventure and Jon was so taken with the story that he named his Ghost." 

Myrcella laughed, "Now our story will live on in the form of a dog."

Robb nodded, "Exactly." 

"Did you name yours yet?" 

He shook his head and turned to her, "Nope. I thought since you helped me find them, that you should be able to name at least one of them."

Myrcella heart was being attacked all day. She was sure that any more of this type of abuse, she would keel over for sure. "Really?"

"Of course," Robb's eyes were filled with sincerity, "If it wasn't for you, I would've blew out my back."

Myrcella just shook her head bashfully, as if trying to physically divert for the compliment from her. "Which one did you choose?"

"The grey one you were holding."

Myrcella thought for a minute. Her mind immediately went back to the very first time she met Robb, and shivered as the memory of the winter wind came crashing down on her. It whispered a reminder; the one reminder she was to never forget. 

_He is not yours to have._

"Grey Wind." Myrcella said finally.


	4. The King's Landing Interment

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay everyone! Strap in because this chapter is going to be a long and bumpy ride. I do hope that you all will forgive me for how choppy this chapter turned out. I needed cram a lot of plot into this chapter, in order to set-up for the coming chapters. So, once again, sorry for all the typos and tense issues. 
> 
> Also if there are any parts of this chapter that you don't understand, please feel free to **ask me in the comments below**. I try to answer all of the comments I get, so let me know **if you need anything to be clarified**. 
> 
> Please let me know how you feel about this, especially this chapter. Anyway, without further ado... enjoy.

Robert Baratheon's 49th birthday celebration was underway and the guests were filled to the brim at the Red Keep Manor. He invited anyone who could make it and people made it a point to show up when Robert Baratheon extended them an invitation.

At the main table, Ned, Catelyn, Sansa, and Arya Stark had joined the Baratheon family and all was amiable until about half way through the second course.

Conversation, up to that point, was filled with a variety of different topics ranging from exporting taxes, to piracy laws, to the decline of major league baseball, to the series of strange (seemingly unrelated) deaths of random children around Westeros over the past couple of months. “I was talking to Jon,” Robert said to Ned between gulps of his drink, “he said that those murders were linked but he can't see how, yet. Not like it fuckin' matters. He's not a spy anymore why does he give a flyin' fuck? But he still got that mind o' his. Always turnin', always thinkin' those fuckin' conspiracy theories o' his.” Myrcella could tell her father was drunk. He always cursed more when he was drunk.

Cersei, who had been silent for most of the meal, cleared her throat before saying sweetly, “Perhaps we can talk about something a little less macabre, my love?”

Robert ignored her and slurred on, “Jon Arryn should be here tonight with usss. _Celebrating._ Instead he's off doing fuckin' _police_ work like he's some government lapdog.”

Myrcella remembered that conversation taking place. She wasn't suppose to be listening (her music player was suppose to be on since she had her ear-buds in place) but she always made it a point to listen to Jon Arryn when ever he was talking. He was wise and honorable, constantly seeking out the truth. Despite what her father thinks about Arryn's paranoid tendencies, she knows that he explicitly trusts the ex-spy. Her father had asked him why he cared at all about these weird deaths, and Jon simply said he would need a couple of days off to “follow a hunch”.

Myrcella watched as Ned Stark mulled over what he had just heard and turn to give his wife a knowing glance. Catelyn Stark covered up her tiny nod of recognition gracefully but Myrcella knew that something had passed between them. Coming in to move the conversation away, Tommen asked Arya who her friend was.

Myrcella had never had the pleasure of meeting anyone quite as precocious as Arya Stark. The young Baratheon thinks she quite likes the girl with the startling gray eyes and sharp features. She was wild and frank and she always wore this look that challenged authority. It was down right refreshing.

Arya had made it clear early on in the evening that she did _not_ want to be at a fancy party in fancy clothes and make-up and that if she absolutely _had_ to be, then she would have to make the night bearable by inviting her friend, Gendry Waters to join her. Gendry, who was the Stark's new employee and an old friend of Jon Snow's, had just received his certification to operate as an Aviation Maintenance Technician.

“So you're just a glorified mechanic.” Joffery sneered at Gendry from his side of the table. Cersei, who was sitting next to her dearest son, licked her lips in anticipation.

Before anyone could step in to defuse the tension, Arya had busted out laughing. All eyes were on the young Stark girl, even Gendry. Most of the table shared a look of mild confusion, while Catelyn flitted her eyes around the room as if she was looking for the nearest exist and Sansa was hissing at Arya to keep quiet. Myrcella, herself, was just curious (and, perhaps, a little intrigued) as to why she had reacted in such a manner and watched in rapt fascination as Arya took Gendry's hand in her own. “You know what these hands can do? These hands have the ability to create. The ability to fix. They have the ability to build something from nothing. The ability to forge a vehicle of transportation so impossible, that gravity could not hold it down. These hands even have the ability to bring back the dead. These hands have allowed mere mortals to walk among the gods.” Arya looked straight at Joffrey, who was seething from his seat, his fists clenched, knuckles white, “So the next time you fly off to Dorne or Braavos or wherever else you find your sorry excuse of an existence going to, while you dine on your expensive caviar, and fly through the belly of the clouds, just know that the hands of a _glorified mechanic_ made it possible for you to even see what the sky looks like from a thousand feet in the air.”

Robert was the first to burst out, his laughter rumbled from deep in his chest. He joked that his private jet might need a glorified mechanic's touch and invited Gendry to take a look at it later that week. Joffrey was nearly purple in the face. He glared daggers at Arya before slamming his napkin on the table and stormed out of the dining hall. Cersei followed in suit, glowered at Robert before she made her excuses to the rest of the Starks at the table.

Arya continued to boast about Gendry, retelling the time when he had resurrected her father's old Cessna 195 out of junk yard scarps. No one made any quips about Gendry for the rest of the dinner.

No one also made any comments about the striking resemblance between Gendry and Renly Baratheon. Or Robert Baratheon, for that matter.

 

* * *

 

 

Myrcella saw much of Gendry Waters after that night. He had spent a large amount of time working on, not only her father's private jet, but also on all the vintage cars that the Baratheons owned. They didn't speak outside of the garage but Myrcella always felt that she might have gain a friend in the quiet technician. He was polite and cordial but in a gruff way. He was street smart and a lot more wise than he lets on. Myrcella found herself often wishing that Gendry was her older brother because of how easy it was to talk to him. Sometimes Arya would join Myrcella and the three of them would have lunch together, talking about a wide array of different things. Most of the time though, the young Stark would be wrangled to go on shopping trips with Sansa and her mother, so Myrcella had found herself getting to know Gendry quite a bit. She found out a lot of random things about him during their conversations. Like how he never knew his father and that his mother was a bar waitress on Steel Street. How he was allergic to bananas and that he grew up in King's Landing and had met Jon Snow when they both had applied to a trade school across the street from Tohbo Mott's Auto Shop. Jon wanted to actually join the police academy in Winterfell but decided he needed a change of scenery after his girlfriend's tragic accident. She also found out that he had an ironic fear of heights.

“How did you and Arya meet?” Myrcella asked one day when he was working on a pretty red '51 Allard.

A rumbling laughter came from underneath the bed of the roadster. Myrcella shivered thinking how much that laughter reminded her of her father. “Arya was down for the summer to visit Jon and I happened to be at his apartment that day. Needless to say, I didn't make much of an impression on her... I think I still have the bruise she gave me because I called her a _lady_. But then after seeing her day after day, she and I just started hanging out more purely because of proximity. And then... I guess... we just started to...” Gendry's voice dropped off and Myrcella smirked, thinking she understood where he was going with that statement.

She began lightly juggling a few nuts and bots she found sitting in the tool box before innocently asking, “Do you think you might have feelings for her?”

A loud thump, followed by an agony filled curse, echoed through the garage. Myrcella couldn't help the giggle that escaped from her lips.

 

* * *

 

Jon Arryn had arrived back in King's Landing that weekend from his trip to Storm's End.

Myrcella was returning a book to her father's library when she walked in on Jon (most likely discussing what he had found) with Ned Stark. They both froze at the sight of Myrcella and ceased all conversation, awkwardly smiling at Robert's daughter. Jon excused himself, saying that he was off to find her father, and patted Myrcella's shoulder, existing the room. Ned nodded at Myrcella once more before asking if she knew whether Gendry was in the garage that day. Myrcella shook her head as she slid the book back into its place on the top shelf of the histories section.

“Did you need Gendry for something, Mr. Stark?”

Ned looked at her wearily for a heartbeat before he placidly said, “I just wanted to make sure he knew that he'll be going up North with Yoren and Arya in a few days. Robert said that the boy had already taken a look at his jet so, hopefully he'll have time to tie-up loose ends here in King's Landing before the trip.”

Myrcella thought to herself that that was probably the longest conversation she had ever had with Ned Stark. She had no reason to be suspicious of the man but then again...

Perhaps it was her mother's blood that was running thick through her veins that day but Myrcella could not help but train her eyes on the older man as he left towards the direction of the parlor and not the garage.

Ned Stark may be an honorable man, but that did not mean he didn't have potentially dangerous secrets.

 

* * *

 

The following morning, news of Jon Arryn's death came as a shock to everyone at the breakfast table. One of the house staff had found the man cold in his bed. The family doctor had been called in and said that he had passed due to a stress-induced heart attack.

Jon Arryn's wife was contacted a little while after the doctor left and had requested that Jon be buried back home at the Eyrie. Robert announced that whoever wanted to attend the funeral, they were to be packed tonight and be ready to fly out the day after tomorrow.

Myrcella saw, from the corner of her eyes, her mother looking over towards her Uncle Jaimeand then over to Joffrey. Both of them must have understood whatever was not said because they nodded (Jaime more discretely than Joff). Myrcella did not understand what was happening but was too concerned with Tommen, who was crying into his oatmeal, to actually demand what all the secrecy was about.

Myrcella watched as her father mourned his friend by drinking away his sorrows. He sloppily rose from the dining table and stumbled his way into his office. He did not come out until late the next day.

 

* * *

 

Gendry, a flight attendant, and the two pilots were the only people that greeted Myrcella, Arys Oakheart, and her father on the private airstrip. The technician looked as though he been up for most of the night working on the last few touches on the engine. “I rechecked the oil level, the turbine looks like its in top form, and filled her up earlier this morning.” Gendry said, weariness evident in his voice.

“Thank you, boy. You're going up North with Yoren, yes?” Robert asked as Arys began loading the few bags that they had brought with them into the plane.

Gendry nodded sheepishly before muttering, “Yes, sir.”

Robert grunted, “Good. Don't worry, son, you're in good hands. Ned's a good man.”

Gendry gave a curt nod, “Yes, sir. I know.” There was conviction in his voice.

With that, Robert boarded on the plane after his daughter. Myrcella weakly waved to Gendry from her seat next to the window. As the plane took off, Myrcella looked out towards the parking lot of the air field and thought she might have seen Joff's Aston Martin driving away.

 

* * *

 

Myrcella woke up to chaos.

The oxygen mask that was suspended in front of her, shook as violently as the plane.

Screams could barely be heard over the sounds of the metal bird rattling. ' _No._   _Not yet..._ '

Her father's eyes were glazed with panic. ' _Please... not today..._ '

Arys was stumbling back to his seat.

He shouted to her father.

The private jet was falling. Fast. _'We're not going to make it...'_

In the haze of fear, Myrcella could only think of one thing, as she clutched the arms of her seat, _'Mother...'_

 

* * *

 

Myrcella was floating. The mailable nature of the air was like walking on a water bed. She looked out and all around her she was surrounded by water. Taking a tentative step, her feet began to push her towards one direction. The air was completely still, as if the entire world had stopped turning, stopped revolving around the sun. She was trying to remember how she had gotten there.

“She's still breathing...

-

pull her out of the...

-

stretcher-easy!

-

Her neck...

-

watch out for her cheek-”

-

Myrcella whipped back around trying to see where the broken voices had come from but all she saw was blue. Blue skies all around her. The sounds of sirens blared in the distance to her right.

A searing pain shot through her like someone had taken a flaming sword and slapped her across the face with it. She tried to scream but started to choke on something that tasted like iron. Tears burned a trail down her cheeks. The pain was all consuming. It demanded to be felt, demanded to acknowledged. And so she allowed herself to succumb to it, allowed it to pull her under. The air was salty. The sky was blue. So blue. As blue as Robb Stark's eyes.

And then, everything was dark again.

 

* * *

 

Her eyes refused to adjust when she finally woke up from her fitful slumber. The lights in the room were brighter than the city lights outside. A set of familiar beige-colored blinds were drawn back and the night was darker under the flood of the florescent glow. Myrcella wearily looked around and saw she was in her family's privately owned safe house in King's Landing. Her head was woozy from the drugs she was sure the nurses had given her, since she couldn't feel any immediate pain. She did, however, feel something heavy on the left side of her face. Her heart started racing as she brought her hand to finger the thick bandages that covered her cheek.

Just then, the family doctor walked in. “Ah, Miss Baratheon. Welcome back. How are you feeling this evening?”

Myrcella winced before she rasped, “Thirsty.”

Pycelle walked over to the bedside and poured her a cup of water. Handing it to her, he waited until she had finished the entire cup and then placed it back on the nightstand. “How is your neck?”

Myrcella slowly moved her neck from side to side, and although it was stiff, she was able to move it quite fluidly considering she was in a plane crash. How did she even make it out of that?

She was sure it was nothing short of a miracle.

“Fine but still feel a bit dizzy.”

“Ah, that could be due to malnutrition. You haven't eaten anything in about 3 days. I'll have one of the nurses bring something up for you in just a bit. How about your arms  and legs? Thankfully, the accident left your spine completely intact but we need to be sure.”

She looked down to see that wrist was in a cast and that her arms were covered in angry purple and yellow bruises, her fair skin dotted with small nicks and cuts. Myrcella began to gingerly move about her shoulder, arms, and legs, slowly at first, testing if anything was out of sorts.

All was fine, as far as she could tell, albeit sore as hell. Even from such simple movements, Myrcella was already getting tired. “I think I'm alright...”

“Good. If anything else changes, don't hesitate to let me know.” The old man looked at her cautiously before making his way back to the door. “I'll send a nurse up with your-”

“Doctor Pycelle,” Myrcella's voice was raspy, “how bad is my injury?”

The old geyser looked befuddled by her question. He stammered, “Well... d-due to... _multiple_ shards of glass puncturing the malar, s-some breaking through buccal-”

“Just tell me, _plainly_ , how bad my injuries are.” She didn't want to sound harsh (her mother would have disapproved) but Myrcella was trying to mask her fear of the truth under a bravado of authority.

It seemed to work for the most part.

Doctor Pycelle sighed before gravely admitting, “The entire left side of your face will bare a scar if you do not choose to undergo facial reconstruction and surgery.”

Myrcella let out a ragged breath. “How big is it? The scar?”

“From just below your temple to your chin.”

“And my father?”

The old geyser didn't say anything. He simply reached into his pocket, pulling out a small syringe, before he injected it into IV that was connected to her arm. “You should get some rest, Miss. Baratheon.”

' _No... it's not true. He can't be... please, no.._.'

Myrcella's heart broke even more at the thought of never hearing her father's boisterous laughter again. She would have given the beauty of her other cheek just to hear him call her name. To feel the weight of his hand as he lovingly patted her head. To crawl into his lap and let him hold her so that she could feel safe once again.

Myrcella thought the pain from the glass shards that had penetrated her cheek was the single most excruciating thing she will ever experience in her life. She was dead wrong.

 

* * *

 

Over the next couple of days, visitors and well wishers brought greeting cards, baskets of fruit, and flowers. Myrcella didn't even bother to get up most of the time, every time the morphine worn off she was in so much pain that most of the time she couldn't speak, just repeatedly pressed the distress button on the side of her bed until the nurses injected a new syringe of the clear liquid that took the pain away. It didn't, however, take away the nightmares but those hurt in a different way. On good days, she would be well rested enough to sit up and eat something semi-solid.

Other days, however...

A few days after she awoke, she had seen her mother for all of five minutes before a detective asked to speak to her about the crash.

“We were returning from the Eyrie. Jon Arryn's funeral was... uhm... what day is this?”

“You woke up about a week ago. Today's the 6th.” The officer said.

“Then the funeral was last Saturday.” Myrcella continued. “We had been all so worn out from the trip, emotionally and physically. So I remember taking some sleeping medication and fell asleep for most of the trip before I...” She couldn't even bring herself to finish.

The officer nodded sympathetically. He asked a series of other questions before he reluctantly allowed Cersei back into the room. Myrcella didn't remember much about the accident and she wasn't sure if was sad about that fact or not. Her memory was fractured, like trying to piece together a broken mirror.

Her mother was peeling an orange for her, filling the sterilized air with the scent of citrus. “Your father's service will be tomorrow. I'm sorry that you cannot attend but I'm so glad that you're awake, sweetheart. It's all happening so quickly. What will we do without him...”

Myrcella turned to look at Cersei. If she didn't know any better, Myrcella might have actually believed that Cersei was worried about what she will do now that Robert was dead. She maybe able to fool everyone else, but she will never be able to fool Myrcella.

She felt sick just thinking about just how free Cersei must feel. 

“It's too bad, really,” Cersei placed the plate of oranges neatly on the bedside table, “You were such a pretty girl too. A real shame.”

Myrcella turned her body to face the window, trying to ignore the burn as her tears began to soak through her bandages on her cheek.

 

* * *

 

The next morning, Myrcella woke up and asked the nurse to help her into the wheelchair so that she could sit outside on the balcony in order to get some fresh air. The sun was out that day, bright and proud, burning off the week's overcast.

From the balcony of the safe house, Myrcella could see the dome of the Sept of Balor, gleaming under the brilliance of the morning light. She could hear the bells gong from where she sat.

The procession has started.

Before she knew it, Myrcella's body was wreaked with sobs. Her charismatic father, who was strong and brave and so very broken, was now so very gone from this world.

' _At least he wasn't suffering anymore_ ,' She hoped that he did not suffer before he passed.

Her body shook violently as she screamed out into brightness of the morning, that belied the ache in her heart. She cursed every god she could think of.

Myrcella wanted proof that her father once lived. She wanted proof that he had once moved and breathed in the same world as her.

And so she slipped back into a dream-state.

In her dream, she saw her father in what looked like a royal cloak with a crown atop his head. He smiled at her and she cried out as she leapt into his arms. “Why are you crying, Cella?”

“Because I have disappointed mother again.” She has had this conversation before with her father.

Her father shook his head, his crown glittering in the wake of the warm afternoon sun. “No, child, you could never disappoint anyone.”

“You're just saying that because you have to.”

Robert laughed. It made Myrcella's heart crack. “I say it because it is true.” Seeing his daughter not convinced by his words, Robert continues, “Do you remember when I was teaching your brothers and you how to ride a horse?”

Myrcella smiled at the memory. She could ride better than both of her brothers.

“You were so scared of Joffrey before then, you wouldn't even look him in the eye when he talked to you. But when he started to put down little Tom, your eyes lit with fury. I remember you telling off that fool of an older brother of yours that the only reason he hadn't fallen off his horse yet was because Sandor had super glued his breeches to his saddle.” Robert chuckled at he beamed at her with pride. “You have the Baratheon blood in you, Cella. Don't let them take that form you! Only _you_ can give them that power over you. What is our motto?”

“Ours is the fury.”

“That's right. We _fight_ for what is ours. We do not cower to those who think little of us. We seize the chances that lay before us and prove to the world our worth. Do not let your life be defined by the opportunities that you miss simply because you or someone else tells you that you are not good enough.”

 

* * *

 

Her father's words echoed in her mind as her eyes flew open. She was once again tucked into her bed but she was aware that she wasn't alone anymore.

Turning to her right, she gasped at the sight of Robb Stark sitting with his elbows propped up on his knees, the lower half of his face covered by his hands that were clasped together. He was so lost in thought, he did not realize she had woken up.

“Robb? What are you doing here?” Myrcella felt herself begin to cough, her throat sore from all the crying.

Robb shot up out of the chair and, in an instant, was by her side. She tried to swallow thickly but her throat was so parched she simply pointed to the water jug on the night stand, hoping he would understand. He nodded before pouring her a generous amount of the cool liquid and handing it over to her. She forced herself to drink it slowly and eventually drained the cup. Nodding her thanks to him, he placed the cup back on the nightstand before letting out a deep breath.

“How are you feeling?” His voice laced with concern, "Do you need me to call someone?"

Myrcella shook her head and smiled weakly, “I've been better but there's no need to call anyone.”

Robb's expression was somber. “I'm sorry this happened to you.”

She snorted. “It's not your fault. I'm sure you didn't intentionally make the plane fall out of the sky.”

Myrcella watched as Robb's hands grew into fists. He closed his eyes to calm his breathing down before grinding out, “I was at your father's funeral this morning.”

She nodded.

“Cersei is accusing Gendry Waters of tampering with Robert's jet. There's a warrant out for his arrest.”

Life wasn't going to give her any breaks. Life just wanted to hurt her and hurt her, until finally it couldn't hurt her anymore.

 _Gendry_. Her _friend_. The boy she had wanted as her _brother_.

“How...? No. He wouldn't! Why would he? He wouldn't gain anything from hurting me or my father.”

Robb paused before steeling himself, “Gendry is Robert's illegitimate son.”

Her entire being went cold. Myrcella had always had her suspicions, always wondered if maybe...

“Are you sure?”

Robb nodded gravely, “Technically, the Lannisters could say that he was taking vengeance out on Robert for not claiming him or helping out his mother through child support.” Myrcella felt like throwing up when he said “the Lannisters” with such venom, “Especially with you on the plane, they could even say that he was jealous of how well you were raised.”

Myrcella shook her head, “No. Gendry is _not_ that kind of guy. He's a _good_ person. He would _never_ do that! He's my friend!”

Robb's arm shot out to hold her down in an attempt to soothe her. “ _I_ know that but the evidence are stacked against Gendry. Especially since he was the last person to work on that plane.”

Myrcella felt her head spinning. She tried to pick a spot on the wall and stare at it intently, “Where is he now?”

Robb sank into the chair next to the bed. Myrcella braced herself for the answer.

“He was at Moat Cailin with Yoren and Arya when they were mugged. Yoren was killed trying to give Arya and Gendry a chance to get away. Now, everyone is radio silent.” When he looked up, Myrcella felt her heart absolutely pulverize. Robb's eyes were filled with fear. Genuine fear “My sister, Myrcella. I don't know where my sister is. She could anywhere. She could be dead!” His head hung in defeat.

Myrcella hesitantly reached out her hand and sank her fingers into his deep auburn curls. She stroke his hair, finding that it was comforting for her just being near him. Robb reached up and took her hand and wove his fingers into hers.

“I proposed to Talisa,” Robb blurted out, “before I left Winterfell to come here.”

Myrcella tried her best to devoid her face of any emotion, but she just did not have it in her that day, not with her mind racing and her heart crumbling by the minute. She should have said congratulations. She should have smiled at him and share in his supposed happiness. She should have asked if they were thinking of a winter or a spring wedding. She should have been able to get a grip on her emotions.

Myrcella decided, for once, to be honest with herself. “Why are you telling me this?”

Robb's fingers twitched in hers before he sighed, “I don't know. I'm not really sure about... _anything_ when I'm around you. My head gets all jumbled up and I... I can't get my heart to stop racing.”

It felt as though all the wind had been knocked from Myrcella's chest. Her heart leapt into her throat (colliding head on with her unspoken words) when she felt his strong fingers drawing soothing circles on the back of her hand.

“I know that I should not see you... because it's wrong. I shouldn't feel this way about anyone but Talisa. And yet... whenever I'm around you, all I want to do is spend the rest of eternity in your presence. It's sad how many times during the day, whole conversations would be lost to me because all I can think about is you. And I don't know why.”

“Robb... wait... what are you saying?”

A battle was brewing in his shining blue eyes, he opened his mouth several times to say something but decided to hold his tongue, as if the words he was looking for wasn't quite right. Finally, giving into whatever it was he was debating about, he reach out his other hand and cupped her uninjured cheek. Her muscles jumped at the contact. Searching his eyes, Myrcella waited for him to say something but found he was waiting as well. He was waiting for a sign.

“ _You are so human..._ ” her mother's words rang in her head like a bell.

Myrcella felt her eyes close in bliss as she allowed herself to nuzzle into his hand.

Opening her eyes slowly, she didn't have any time to react, to prepare herself, as his lips pressed warmly against hers.

“ _You always want what you cannot have._ ”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yay! I was finally able to introduce Arya and Gendry into the story. And now, they will be gone for awhile, for obvious reasons. But, yes, I hope Gendrya fangirl didn't scare anyone off. xD (Oh, and the little comment about baseball is a shout out to Collier World's on-going Gendrya story "Untouchable". If you haven't read it, you should! It is breathtaking!)
> 
> There were a lot of allusions to F. Scott Fitzgerald woven into this chapter because I had recently read The Great Gatsby. So yeah, if anything sounds familiar, it's probably something I paraphrased from Fitzgerald. :) Soundtrack while writing this chapter include tracks such as "Stay" by Rihanna (feat. Mikky Ekko) and "The One That Got Away" by The Civil Wars.


	5. A Wake at Storm's End

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I was on the birthing bed for this chapter for the last two weeks and I finally (FINALLY!) pushed it out. 
> 
> To be honest, not my best work. So sorry for all the typos and if there are any glaring errors, please feel free to point it out to me in the comments below. Like continuity issues, large chucks of dialogue the seems to be missing, time lapses that seem out of place, or characters, even, that don't sound like themselves, please I implore you to let me know! I promise I will make it up to all of you in the next chapter. I wish I had worked on it a little bit more, edited it a little bit more, but I wanted to make sure you all got it before you thought I might have given up on this. I have every intention of finishing this story, so your comments and kudos always cheer me on. And we are past the half way mark, ladies and gentle people! YAY!! \\(o_o)/
> 
> Thank you for your continued support. This story (and especially this chapter) would not be possible without you. *hugs*
> 
> A special thanks goes out to Sylvie who made this beautiful Fanmix on Tumblr. (http://sapphireglyphs.tumblr.com/post/54526005915/four-weddings-and-a-funeral-fanmix-a-robb)

Sansa Stark was not smiling as often lately. She had been looking particularly weary since Robert Baratheon's death but even before that, there had been little things that had changed in the sweet Stark girl. She was more skittish, more alert. She would tuck her chin to her chest when she walked by people and, often times, not make eye contact for most of a conversation.

Myrcella had heard things that the house staff said when they thought she was asleep. That at her father's funeral, Petyr Baelish had taken a special interest in Sansa, promising Catelyn Stark that he will “take good care” of Sansa while she was in King's Landing. Since then, Myrcella heard that Sansa has kept to herself in the room that was given to her in the large Baratheon estate home, taking her meals in there and by herself. So when she had come to visit Myrcella the week after the funeral, it had most definitely surprised her.

“How are you feeling?”

“Mm, I'm getting cabin fever faster than I'm getting better.” Myrcella quipped. Sansa offered her a small smile that didn't quite reach her eyes. She sat awkwardly, her back was ramrod straight as if she was petrified of touching the back of the chair.

 

* * *

 

The day that the cast on her wrist was taken off, a phone call came in for Myrcella. Sansa was in the room with her when the house staff brought the cordless phone. It had been nearly a week since Sansa's initial visit, which she had made a daily occurrence since, mostly knitting or reading while Myrcella focused on getting better, sleeping, or complaining about not getting better fast enough for her liking.

“Myrcella? It's your Uncle Renley! How have you been, darling? I'm mortified that I didn't have a chance to come in to see you when I was down in King's Landing. I was caught up in an enthralling conversation with your mother and her brothers. One thing lead to another and then there was an emergency in Storm's End, so I had to catch the first flight out the next morning. It was a down right mess, just finished with the last of it this morning. But, I would like to make it up to you. I have a round trip ticket for you being delivered to the estate today so that you could come and visit us. We need your father's remains to come back to Storm's End so that we can have a proper burial for him here.”

Myrcella's heart began to involuntarily race at the thought of being in a plane again but he father had always said to get back up on that horse as quickly as possible so that the fear doesn't take root. Still, Myrcella was a bit confused, “I thought he was going to be buried here in King's Landing.”

“That was what your mother and I was discussing. Both Stannis and I believed that Robert would have wanted to be buried in his home town. And seeing as he has a plot here on the same hill as our father and mother, the decision was made that he would be brought here.” Renley's tone was absolute despite his charming public persona. “This way, we can finally have a real wake. A wake _fitting_ my late brother.”

Myrcella nodded and, with a soft sigh, she told Renley that she would be bringing Tommen and Sansa with her. Her friend looked as though she was in much need of a reprieve from all the drama in the house and by the way Sansa's eyes softened when she heard that she would be joining Myrcella on her trip, Myrcella knew that she made the right decision to include her.

Renley's smile could be heard over the phone in his reply, “I wouldn't have it any other way.” 

 

* * *

 

Renley Baratheon welcomed Myrcella and Tommen with open arms and a warm smile for Sansa, despite the fact that his brother's body was in the back of the van.

Stannis Baratheon was there too but he made no move to greet his brother's family (and soon extended family) in the same manner.

Aside from the initial terror that gripped Myrcella as the plane hit some turbulence about fifteen minutes out from Storm's End, the plane ride there was hugely uneventful. Tommen had spent the large portion of the plane ride browsing through photos of his kittens on his phone, playing cards with Sansa, or sleeping, which left Myrcella to her thoughts. And her thoughts were filled with the kiss that had consumed the latter half of Robb's visit to her.

Thinking back to it left her cheeks warm and her stomach clenching. There was only one way of describing the experience: it was the exact replica of the feeling you get when you're on a roller-coaster minus the the anticipation because he didn't give her more than a quarter of a millisecond to comprehend what was happening before his lips descended on hers. The initial contact felt surreal, similar to the first drop, and then after that, it was the scream inducing, giggle fest that ensued once the adrenaline kicks in. She couldn't breathe, didn't want to breathe, just wanted to be, for once, guilt-free whilst she indulged her senses in the sinful bliss of having him all to herself. To relish in the euphoria of him wanting her, the way she wanted him.

She remembered pulling back, trying to push him away but wanting to run her lips over the curve of his jaw.

When she finally got a hold of her breathing, Myrcella sighed, “Come on, Robb... what are we doing? We both know how this story ends,” Her eyes stung, her nose started prickling but she refused to let the tears fall. He made a move to say something but Myrcella placed a her fingers on his lips, as if to physically stop the words from spilling from him.

“You have a fiancé now... and you can't have us both,” She held her head high and looked at his straight in his Tully-blue eyes, “You need to figure out what you want, Robb, because I will not be set aside as the back-up plan just in-case you two don't work out.”

Robb's shock and lust quickly turned to shame. Myrcella couldn't help but reach her hand up to pull his neck down towards her and press his forehead against her own, because as much as she wanted to be cold towards him so that maybe he would walk out of her life forever, her heart just wouldn't let her. She felt her chest clench when he sighed against her lips, his warm breath flaring across her cheeks.

She knew she was going to regret this later but she couldn't bring herself to care at that moment. The guilty will surely eat at her but it didn't matter right then, not when he leaned forward and brushed his lips against her forehead.

Myrcella gently rubbed at the spot with finger, as they were driven by Renley to the cemetery. Her gaze was trained out the window but it wasn't fixed on anything specific. She mindlessly watched the hills roll by and, whenever she felt particularly masochistic, allowed her mind to switch between memories of her father and Robb's kiss.

 

* * *

 

The wake that followed after the burial of Robert Baratheon saw a little over a hundred people attend the local pub that Robert use to frequent when he was still living in Storm's End. Myrcella and Tommen felt a bit out of place and awkward when people who claimed to have known them when they were still kids offered their condolences. Periodically the Manderlys, or the Redwynes, or the Tyrells, or a Cassels and a whole slew of other old families (many with business ties to the Baratheon Corp.) would come to offer a word or two of sympathy. Myrcella never knew how to react because some would say things like 'oh what a tragedy it was' or 'he was taken from us too soon' and she would feel a pang of guilt for being there and not her father. Every once in awhile, someone who was drunk would take hold of the microphone and say a few words about her father in their drunken stupor and that would be entertaining until they fell off the stage or started singing “Oh, he's a jolly good fellow” off-key.

About two hours into the event, Renly came up to them with a two fine looking gentlemen (one who was prettier than most women Myrcella knew and the other a more classic handsomeness to him who was leaning heavily on a cane) and the Baratheon family lawyer, Petyr Baelish.

“Myrcella, Tommen. So good to see you again.” His smile grew even more when he turned to Sansa, “And Sansa, you look lovelier every time I see you. A splitting image of your mother when she was your age.” Myrcella did not miss the shudder that raked through Sansa once Petyr turned his eyes back to her family. “If you would like, we can take care of business right away,”

Myrcella never liked talking to Petyr because on top of him looking like a cunning fox, his smiles always gave her the creeps. It was the smile that made her truly believed that she should never trust this man.

“What type of business, Mr. Baelish?” Tommen asked, placing his half drank soda on the counter-top.

“The business of your father's will, my boy. You didn't think that he passed without leaving anything for you did you?” He gave Tommen one of his smiles.

“I don't want anything of his, I just want _him_ back.” Tommen blurted out.

Everyone was silent in response. He will always be a little bit of a dreamer, no matter how many times life tries to force him to grow up. Myrcella reached over to rub his back in comfort.

Petyr laughed nervously, “Now, now, I wouldn't advise you to say such things like that on record, Tommen. Who knows who might be listening and might use that to take away the gifts your father left for you.”

Myrcella rolled her eyes, thinking no one saw her, but then heard Renly coughing to cover up what sounded like a chuckle.

“Shall we get on then?” Renly finally said, gesturing to a private room at the back of the pub. Once everyone had turned to walk towards the room, Renly gave her a wink before whispering something to the prettier of the two men. He nodded slightly and said that he would stay behind since he and his brother was in desperate need for the company of a beautiful woman before smiling at Sansa. She blushed prettily in response.

Walking into the room, Myrcella looked around and saw a wet bar at the far end of the room, what looked like a poker table in the center of the room, a large flat screen TV on the wall next to the door, and a backdoor that probably lead to the alleyway. Myrcella had a funny feeling that plenty of backroom deals had gone down in this very room.

' _Are those blood stains on the floor?_ '

“Uncle! It is good to see you again.” The voice sent chills down Myrcella's spine and saw that Tommen froze next to her, she knew she didn't imagine that voice. Renly came to stop shortly in front of them, contempt apparent on his handsome features.

“What are you doing here, Joffrey?”

Joffrey stepped out from behind the shadows of the wet bar, his smile cold and calculating. “You didn't think I would be absent at the reading of father's will do you? Myrcella and the brat is here, why shouldn't I be. Mother sent me to represent her at this hearing.”

His gaze pierced Myrcella and she mustered everything within her not to look away. He placed the drink in his hand on the table before gesturing to the empty chair to his right. “Come, sweet sister, won't you sit next to me?”

Myrcella swallowed thickly before agreeing. The room was filled with people, Joff wouldn't do anything with so many witnesses.

Then as Petyr sat across from Tommen and Renley, they waited for Stannis to come in. All heads turned towards the door when it opened and the oldest Baratheon brother entered the secret meeting with two others, both of which were wearing black Baratheon company hoodies that cover their faces, their hands deep in each of their pockets. Stannis looked around the room, assessing it before his eyes fell on Joffrey.

“What is he doing here?”

Renley waved his brother's question off, as Stannis took the empty chair (his two companions leaning against the wall facing the door), “It doesn't matter. You're here now, so we can get this thing started.”

Joff's lips curled into a sinister grin, “Anxious are we, Uncle Renley?”

Renley gave his nephew a pointed look, eyes flaring for a moment, before carefully replying, “Not exactly for the reasons you might be thinking, Joffrey.”

The tension was palpable. Finally, Petyr got all his papers in order and began reading off the official documents. Robert Baratheon had left the house and all of his assets for his immediate family. They are to split the combined value of it evenly between all the members of his immediate family. The entirety of the new King's North companies to Joffrey Baratheon, half a million in liquid assets is to go to Tommen Baratheon, and complete control of Baratheon Incorporated to Myrcella Baratheon under the advisement of Eddard Stark, Renly Baratheon, and Stannis Baratheon.

Myrcella was left speechless. Why did it come to Myrcella? Her father knew that she didn't want any part of the family business. Why didn't her mother get any of it? Wouldn't it make more sense since if it had gone to her mother who actually had a hand in helping the business with her father?  
It seemed as though Joffrey was thinking the same thing as he protested in outrage.

“I'm sorry, Joffrey, but it clearly states right here that Myrcella Baratheon is the sole, chief executive officer of the entire Baratheon company, including all of it's sister companies.” Joffrey looked as though a vein might just pop in his head when Petyr said that she was essentially his boss. “That is not all though,” Joff's face was the color of a eggplant at this point but allowed the lawyer to continue, “If, in the event that any of Robert Baratheon's natural born children were in need of financial assistance, then there is a fund set aside and it is to be divided evenly amongst them. It goes on to say that a DNA test will be required and that shouldn't be a problem as Robert's blood has been stored away for this very purpose.”

Myrcella smiled at that thought. This would mean that Gendry and any other of her half-brothers and sisters would finally get the help they needed. It won't make up for all that they've been through with the absence of her father, but at least now her father would get a final chance to take some of the responsibility for bringing his illegitimate children into this world.

“And what of my mother? Surely there is something in the will that states her.” Joffrey demanded.

“Your mother, Cersei Baratheon, has been given the Baratheon Estate in King's Landing.” Petyr said with ease, allowing his eyes to scan the document one last time, even though Myrcella knows that the man could very well recite it if he were prompt to.

Joffrey waited for Petyr to continue but when it was clear that the lawyer was done, Myrcella's older brother nearly attacked the paper in his hands, “ _That's it?_ _How can that be it?_ How the _fuck_ did my father's _bastards_ get more than his own wife?” His words spat across Petyr's face while his eyes held murder, “You are just as much a Lannister lawyer as you are Baratheon! How could you possibly not fight for more on her behalf?” Joffrey's voice boomed, attacking the man that sat across from them, who looked completely unfazed by his tantrum.

A slight look passed across Petyr's face for a moment, as if he was debating about whether it was wise to voice what he was about to say. Carefully, but assuredly, the lawyer looked pointedly at the young man and said, “Well, I did ask for Robert to reconsider giving your mother more-”

“So why the _fuck_ is it not on here?”

“-but Robert refused on the grounds that Cersei has been carrying on an affair for close to 23 years now. Seeing as Robert thought it would be less productive and more of a hassle to divorce her, he decided simply to offer her a home to stay in hopes that she will help him raise the three of you.” Petyr Baelish smiled then, as if he was watching the world crash down around him, undoing all the lives within that room, and he was the only one safe from its destruction.

“No. _You're lying_!”

Joffrey leapt to hi feet and pulled out his gun. Everyone in that room backed up, every suit in the room had their hands on their semi-automatics as they watched the young Baratheon with eyes of a hawk. Even the ever cool Petyr Baelish looked slightly bristled as the muzzle of the gun was pointed right at his chest. “You're calling my mother a cheating-”

“I never made those accusations, Joffrey,” Petyr's hands slowly raised as a sign of submission, but his eyes twinkled of predatory inclinations,“I would never say such a thing, wouldn't believe it ever be true... had it not been for the blood test your father ordered.”

“What blood test?” Myrcella asked then.

Petyr turned to her with a smile of pity, “The blood test you three took when Tommen sent in his college application, earlier this year. The gray-scale plague was spreading once again around King's Landing and the Storms Lands like wild fire.” Petyr ignored the deep growl that rumbled in Stannis' chest. “You were told that the clinic was taking your blood sample in order to make sure you haven't contracted the scales but, in actuality, Robert was testing his suspicions that have been fueled by the research that Jon Arryn had uncovered. And what he found was that none of his three children are actually his.”

Joffrey had lowered his gun by then, completely in shock by the information that had just been dropped on him and his siblings. Like a bomb that exploded in his face, Joffrey was stunned and took out his rage by chucking his tumbler of whiskey just inches from Baelish's head. Unsatisfied still, he kicked his chair back and called to the Hound to follow him. Myrcella didn't even noticed the large bodyguard who had successfully hid in the shadows of the room, despite his great size.

“You wait until my grandfather hears about this.” Joffrey hissed over his shoulder.

Everyone relaxed visibly once the door slammed.

Petyr smiled before he amiably commented, “Well, it seems as though some take such news easier than others. Myrcella? Tommen? How are you adjusting to the news?” It was not his place to ask but he did anyway. Did the man have no tact about him at all? Myrcella's glare of disgust left her unchecked before she could mask her emotions and it seemed as though the slimy lawyer relished in the look.

Before she could put him in his place though, surprising everyone in the room, Tommen spoke up then in a quiet confidence, “About father's natural born children, is it true that if they were not present here at the hearing of the will being read that they would be ineligible to claim their portion of the will?” Tommen took a breath, seeing the quizzically gazes of the people around the room round on him, “I only ask because if they don't even know who their father was, how would they be able to come claim what is rightfully theirs? And how do we know how to evenly... distribute the funds?”

Petyr easily shook his head before he corrected him, “No, the funds will be there regardless. As for how to divide the funds, Robert already have an idea of how many of his children were still alive, thanks to hard work of Jon Arryn. And to quell your kind heart, young Tommen, I would be happy to inform you that two of his natural-born children _are_ here to witness the reading. Isn't that right, Stannis?”

The two hooded figures that came in with Stannis stepped forward and pulled their hoods back to reveal a splitting image of their father and uncles; heads covered in thick tuffs of inky black hair and brilliant blue eyes that remind Myrcella so much of Gendry. He should be here, standing proudly with his brother and sister. Gendry who had never had a family should be here now. She wanted to find him so much and tell him that he was not alone; that there are two Baratheon children who were there for him, who would want him in their life. Myrcella's heart ached when she looked at her half-siblings and felt a pang of jealousy that they shared the Baratheon look. Guilt wrought through her soul as she thought of how petty she was being. How could she blame them for being what they were born into? They could not help being Baratheon anymore than Myrcella and Tommen and Joffrey could help being, at least half, Lannister.

Tommen stood, seeing as his sister was still in shock, and sheepishly bowed his head in respect of his older siblings, “I am so sorry for my brother's behavior. Please do not put stock in his words.”

The older girl held up her hand before saying evenly, “Don't worry about it. That was nothing compared to what I've grown up with. You too, right, Edric?” The boy nodded wearily.

Renly took the opportunity then and turned to Petyr asking if they could have a private family discussion. Petyr gracefully hid his displeasure and existed the room. Renly walked up to the two and clapped them both on the shoulder affectionately, smiling at them his infamous radiant smile, “Please let me welcome you in person to the family, Mya, Edric.” They both awkwardly accepted his kind words as he continued, “I trust that you have brought good news today as well?”

The girl named Mya tentatively nodded, “We have located our brother Gendry.”

Myrcella nearly fainted from relief. “Is Arya Stark with him?”

Mya turned to her then and smiled, “Ah... _that's_ her name. We did see that he was with a female companion but we didn't know who she was.”

Gendry was alive. Arya was alive. Myrcella's hand itched to call Sansa seeing as Robb would want to know that his sister lives. But Mya then took the opportunity to continue, “Am I amongst friends of Gendry? None of you wish ill will towards him do you?”

“They wouldn't answer you even if they were, Mya.” Edric said as he eyed the room suspiciously.

Renly quickly said, “We are family and we would never want harm to come to any own who bares a Baratheon name.”

“But we do not bare Baratheon names do we?” Edric said, his voice laced with bitter disdain.

“Not yet and only if you choose.” Renly said with a kind smile. “We will always take care of our own. It will not make up for all these years that you've been without the love of a father but we will do everything that we can, from this day forth, to ensure that you feel welcome in the family.”

Myrcella nodded happily, “Yes, if you need anything at all, you need only ask.”

Mya sighed deeply, “Then, please, help us find a way to clear Gendry's name. We have so little family as it is, we can't allow even one of our own to wrongfully be taken from us.”

 

* * *

 

By the time, the Baratheon clan left the small dark room to rejoin the rest of the guests, it was growing close to midnight. It had began to rain outside and the many of the guests were making their excuses so that they may be the traffic home before the storm got any worse. Myrcella was thinking she would have to ask Renly to drive her back to the estate if he was to stay much longer. She was doing her best to process all the information that she was feed that night and it was all a bit much.

Just as she was going to find Sansa when a voice called out to her. “Excuse me, Miss Baratheon?”

She turned around to see a younger version of Eddard Stark in a KLPD uniform standing next to Eddard Stark senior.

“Good evening, Myrcella.” Ned Stark looked even older than the last time Myrcella saw him, his eyes tired, face haggard. “How is the recovery from the crash treating you?”

She gave him a ghost of a smile, “It's fine, I suppose. The usual aches and pains linger but I'm on the mend, or so the doctors say.” The physical pain was not nearly as bad as the emotional pain that fueled the nightmares that haunt her sleep, “That's the first time I've heard anyone refer to the whole ordeal as anything but an accident.”  
“That's because it wasn't an accident.” came the sharp reply from the younger Stark.

“Jon,” Ned's voice warned. “Forgive me, Myrcella. This is my son Jon.” Myrcella's eyes flicked down to the copper plated name tag on Jon's uniform. It read “Snow”.

“You're...”

“I'm Mr. Stark's natural-born son.”

Ned's eyes flashed with ignominy.

Myrcella took a deep breath before saying. “I was going to say that you're Gendry's friend. The one who was going to the police academy.”

Now it was Jon's turn to look ashamed, “Ah... uhm, yes.”

Ned came in to save his son from further embarrassment and gently said, “Jon has taken a special interest in Gendry's case, for obvious reasons, and was wondering if you could sit down and talk to him for a moment.”

She looked at Ned with sadness, “I don't know what I could possibly tell your son that I haven't already said to the officer who took my statement at the hospital. I want to help, truly, but I don't remember much of the acci- uh the crash.”

“Every little detail helps, Miss Baratheon. I was wondering if I could conduct my own interview with the hopes that maybe there is something that could be prevalent to bringing justice to whomever is responsible.” Jon was desperate to clear Gendry's name as Myrcella was and she thought back to the conversation in the room with Mya and Edric. The look of complete helplessness on their faces prompted Myrcella to agree.

They took a corner booth where it was quiet before Jon asked Myrcella to close her eyes. “Try picturing that morning that you were leaving with your father. What can you hear?”

Myrcella took a moment to concentrate, trying to drown out the other voices in the pub. Then she heard it: the sound of the jet's engine softly humming. She said so to Jon, her eyes still closed.

“Good. What else do you hear?”

Myrcella paused and then said, “My father and Gendry were talking. The stewardess heels on the pavement and then up the metal steps. The click of the keys on my phone when I typing a message to my mother to let her know that we were about to depart.”

“Very good. Now, what do you smell?”

She paused and then replied, “The pilot's cologne. And tar. They had just redone the landing strip the night before I think cause I remember there were spots of tar that weren't completely dry yet.”

“Good, good. Now, what do you see?” Myrcella was about to answer but Jon quickly added, “Take your time. Try to remember as much detail as you can.”

She took a deep breath and then exhaled slowly, “I see... my father shaking hands with Gendry. I see the pilots climb in first followed by the stewardess. The sun was hidden behind the clouds that morning. I climbed in next and my father was last to board. I took a seat next to the window across the way from Arys Oakheart who had already boarded the plane earlier. I remember waving to Gendry and then... that's all. I turned back to read my book and then the plane took off.”

Jon sighed but Ned smiled at Myrcella when she opened her eyes. “It did wonderfully. Thank you, Myrcella.”

She turned to Jon before reaching across the table and placed a hand over his, “I'm sorry I could not do more but I have complete faith that you will bring who ever did this to justice.”

Jon's eyes filled with determination nodded curtly to her before excusing himself. “I wish you a safe trip back home, Miss. Baratheon.”

“Thank you. Your sister is in town with me.”

Jon's eyes flashed of contempt for a moment before he grounded out, “Yes, I am aware. She's gone back to the hotel with your brother.” His voice dripped with hatred when he said so and Myrcella knew immediately which brother he was referring to.

 

* * *

 

Myrcella climbed out of Renly's large black Bentley with Tommen in tow trying to call Sansa to make sure she got to Joffrey's hotel room safely but she was not picking up her cellphone. The three of them were in the parlor when Renly's phone rang and Myrcella noticed that he was smiling sweetly as he picked up the phone. But it was apparent that the phone call was not one of pleasantries as the smile from Renly's face quickly turned into a look of panic. “Slow down, Willas. What did you say?”

Myrcella and Tommen turned to each other and Myrcella felt her stomach drop.

“Where is she now?” Renly listened intently before groaning, “My gods... yes, I'll be there right now.”

Renly hung up the phone and turned to the two of them.

“What is it Uncle Renly? Was that about Sansa?”  
He sighed gravely before nodding, “Sansa was... she's in the emergency room right now.”

Myrcella had to pick a spot on the wall to stare at so that the room would stop spinning before she steeled herself and said, “We are coming with you.”

Renly was about to protest then decided that maybe it was best to keep all of his guests as close to him as possible.

 

* * *

 

When they arrived at the hospital, the doctor was already speaking to Loras Tyrell. Renly demanded to know exactly what happened and half way through explaining Myrcella had to sit down. Willas had return from phoning Ned Stark about what happened when Loras took a deep breath and began to piece together what had happened with the combined stories of what little Sansa had told Willas and what hap occurred at the pub. It seemed that Joffrey had been far more upset than he had let on and decided that he needed to let off some steam.

His fiancé seemed like the perfect “surrogate punching bag.” He had called Ilyn Payne and The Mountain, members of the Baratheon secret guard, to strip her bare and then hold her down while he whipped her bloody with his riding crop.

By some divine miracle, Sansa had gotten away somehow and, in her escape she ran into Willas, virtually knocking him over in the lobby of the hotel. The Tyrells were also staying there for the duration of their visit to Storm's End and Willas who was on his way back to his room was so shocked by the bloody and distraught state that Sansa was in he could hardly tell the bell hop to call an ambulance fast enough before Sansa collapsed, bruised and broken upon the opulent marble floor.

When Willas called Loras to inform him that he was going to need a ride to the hospital, Loras offered to drive seeing as Willas' hands were shaking so badly from both fear and anger.

Myrcella felt her entire body go numb and the head ache pounding at her temple was increasing by the minute. The doctor said had confirmed that Sansa was in stable condition now but subtly recommended for her to seek psychiatric care because it was obvious that the scars that she will carry were far more severe than the ones that he could heal.

A nurse came out of Sansa's room and walked up to the doctor saying that Sansa was asking for someone named Myrcella.

Myrcella shot up out of her seat in the hall so quickly that she had to sit back down because the room started to spin again. Waving off everyone's concerns, irritated at herself for not having the stomach to eat dinner and now, with the lack of sleep, she was nearly overwhelmed with fatigue. She stood up slower this time and made her way into the room.

Sansa was lying on her side in a fetal position, shaking just as Myrcella closed the door. Her head shot up, her eyes filled with fear but upon recognition that it was her friend, Sansa burst into tears. Myrcella walked over towards the Stark girl and crawled into bed with her. Careful not to touch Sansa's bandaged back, Myrcella cradled Sansa's head to her chest, softly caressing her auburn hair. She cursed herself for being so self-absorbed that she recognize the signs, didn't see the writing that was on the wall. “I'm sorry. I'm sorry. I'm so sorry.” Myrcella's apologies turned into a prayer, a lullaby as she listened to Sansa's chocked sobs ebb into sniffles and eventually the fitful heavy breath slumber.

Myrcella made a silent vow as she held Sansa's shivering form. “Don't be scared, I'll be here to shield you from the storm. Sleep, little wolf, I will be your knight who will protect you from the monsters of the world.”

And, despite the fatigue slowly eating away at her, for the first time in Myrcella's miserable life, she truly felt like she was wide awake.  


	6. The Riverrun Wedding

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yay, another long and winding chapter. I pulled from lots of different places for inspiration this time around. Mainly, Mrs. Rowling, Mr. Nietzsche, Mr. Green. Hope you guys enjoy!

Joffrey was taken to the courts at Storm's End later that month on assault and battery charges but was let off on a technicality. Myrcella had been there for the trial and stood up in protest along with the rest of the Stark family, who were outraged at his sentence (or lack thereof). Her grandfather, Tywin Lannister, and her mother refused to even look at her since she very vocally announced that she would be sitting with the Stark family during the trial. The media was abuzz with the accusations and charges dropped by the court. During the trial, Joffrey turned to Sansa who was sitting with the Stark lawyer and gave her the most sinister smile, as if he knew that there was no way he would come out of this on the losing end. After the judge had let Joffrey and his goons off with little more than a slap on the wrist, he turned to Sansa and blew a kiss to her as she sat frozen in the chair. Robb could hardly be contained when he attacked Joffrey outside the courthouse only to be dragged away by local authorities.

Sansa did not take the news well at all.

“What if he came back for me? What if he were to demand that I marry him anyway and my father can't refuse him because he doesn't want to break his promise to Robert?”

Myrcella held Sansa in the hotel room she shared with her mother. Sansa had only recently started seeing a therapist and to have to face that fateful night so soon after she had been released from the hospital, the outcome of the trial was not doing her psyche any favors.

“Sansa, you know how much your father loves you. There is _no way_ he would ever force you to stay with that monster.”

“But what if he-”

“No! No 'but's. How could you think so little of your father? He would lay his life on the line for your happiness, anyone could tell just by spending five minutes with the man.” Myrcella would never admit that right after the incident, she too was afraid of that slight possibility that Sansa would have to go through with the wedding. But after seeing how enraged Eddard Stark was at his daughter's trial, no one would ever question his unwavering loyalty to his family, especially his children. “He will fight tooth and nail to break this engagement off, if its the last thing he does. Do not loose faith in your father, Sansa.”

As if she couldn't help herself, Sansa started to cry. A painful cry that was fueled by fear and disquieted dread. Sansa's puffy rimmed eyes were filled with fear, despite knowing that the court mandated restraining order they placed on Joffrey.

“Do you want me to poison him when I get back to KL?”

Myrcella hoped to comfort her but Sansa instantly shook her head.

“No,” she mumbled against Myrcella's chest, “No... death would be too kind a punishment for what he did. No, he needs to suffer for a long, long time.”

 

* * *

 

 

Once Sansa had fallen asleep, Myrcella picked up her bag and made sure Sansa's hotel room was locked before calling Renly to pick her up; the next person to come and watch over Sansa would be here any minute now. Walking towards the elevator, Myrcella rounded the corner and nearly slammed right into Robb, who was drunk beyond comprehension, if the scent of alcohol wafting off of him was any indication.

“Robb. Are you... are you drunk?”

“Cella! C'mere...” Robb braced himself against a wall as he waved her closer to him. Myrcella gingerly approached him and easily slid her arms around his waist, as if it was the most natural thing to do. And even with the overpowering scent of scotch on him, he still smelled like winter, aftershave, and that mysterious scent that was distinctly Robb. “I missed ya, Cella.”

Myrcella took a tentative breath before whispering, “Me too.”

Robb nuzzled his nose into the hallow of her neck, the junction of where he neck met her shoulder and took a deep breath. It felt so surreal to be holding him after dreaming of him doing just that for so long. “Do'ya hate me, Cella?”

Myrcella looked up at his somber expression, eyes glazed over in his drunken state. “I couldn't if I tried.” She admitted.

His head slumped back to rest on her shoulder. “It'd be soooo much easier if you hated me,” Robb slurred against her skin, causing Myrcella to involuntarily shiver. “If you hated me... I would be able to stop...” His voice tapered off and Myrcella had to ask him to repeat himself.

Yet before he could, the elevator doors opened and out walked Talisa.

Myrcella schooled her face to express relief before she exclaimed, “Talisa. Thank goodness, I think Robb was suppose to be after me to watch Sansa but I think he had one too many at the bar.” Myrcella tried to unload him onto Talisa but Robb's grip was tight as a vise, despite the fact that he was asleep against her.

Talisa forced a tentative nodded through her shock and confusion before she gestured towards the hotel room adjacent from Sansa's. She reached into his pocket and pulled out the room key before she pushed the heavy door open. “This is Robb and Ned's room. You can just lay him on the bed. I'll take care of him from there.”

Myrcella bristled at the casual tone Talisa took when saying Eddard Stark's name. She also did not like the tone Talisa took when she said she would take care of Robb herself, as if implying that Myrcella had overstepped the invisible boundaries between “just friends” and “more-than-just-friends”. But she had to swallow her pride if she had any hope of walking out of this with her dignity in tack.

After unloading him onto the plush bed, she heaved a sigh of relief and graced Talisa with a “natural nervous laugh” to imply the slight absurdity of the situation.

“Thank goodness you found him and no one else. Could you imagine how embarrassing that would be? ' _Future CEO of Stark Industries passed out drunk on the floor of the Embassy Hotel after sister's trial_ ' Thanks again, Myrcella.” Talisa said earnestly as she worked at unlacing Robb's dress shoes.

“No harm done,” Myrcella nodded awkwardly before turning away from the scene that was slowly unfolding before her and bid Talisa a hasty good-night.

Once outside, Myrcella took a ragged breath and prayed to any god who would be listening, that Talisa bought her excuse and, more importantly, that Robb would not remember what he did in the morning.

Myrcella was getting tired of him feeling iniquitously guilty for showing her affection.

 

* * *

 

The invitation to the wedding of Edmure Tully and Roslin Frey came a week after Joffrey's trial. Sansa had gone back with the rest of the Starks to Winterfell and no one has felt her absence quite like Myrcella. Sansa would call two to three times a week but Myrcella missed her friend immensely. Especially after Sansa pieced together Myrcella's feelings for Robb.

“Oh, I've known about that forever. I think everyone has.”

Myrcella panicked for a few heartbeats before she stuttered out, “N-not... _everyone_ right?”

Sansa laughed before saying, “Well... I'm sure Talisa has her suspicions but... I don't think she knows the extent of Robb's feelings for you just yet.”

“Wait, what do you mean by that?”

There was a pause and Myrcella could just see Sansa biting the inside of her cheek as she debated whether to tell Myrcella or not. But in the end, she caved and softly replied, “After the whole thing with uhm.. yeah uh... Robb and I kinda sat down and just talked. About everything. About school, and life, and love, and being in relationships. And I kinda asked him when he knew he was in love with Talisa and he sort of said that... he's not sure if he does. You know... like... if he _ever_ did...”

It was the “kiss attack” all over again. Myrcella's heart wasn't ready to hear this, especially second hand. She wanted those words to fall from his lips, a confirmation that this was real and not simply words to be interpreted late at night when she couldn't sleep.

“Anyway, I kinda put two and two together and just assumed that eventually Robb will come to his senses and just be straight with Talisa. She deserves some semblance of happiness too. I know that he doesn't want to hurt her but leading her on like this is only going to hurt both of them in the long run.” Sansa took a deep breath before continuing, “And what about you?”

Myrcella was caught off guard, as she tried to process what Sansa was saying, “Uh, w-what about me?”

“Do you love Robb?”

Myrcella was rendered speechless for a few moments. She wasn't sure if she truly loved him or not. She was attracted to him; that was how it all started. And then she got to know him and fell for his childish charm and his kindness and his unwavering sense of nobility. Robb was like something out of a fairy tale; a bit too perfect to be real. And then reality would hit her and she would then be reminded that he isn't perfect. He was lofty in a gallantly, arrogant way to almost an unbelievable extent. He was a teenager stuck in the body of a grown man. And he was taken! _Very_ much taken and unavailable.

“I... I don't know! I think I do-”

“You _think_ you do?”

“I mean... honestly, what does it matter anyway? He's getting married, Sansa! Even if I might care for him to the point of madness, it wouldn't matter.”

“But it does matter! He loves you. He just... doesn't know it yet.”

Myrcella shook her head, “Look, I appreciate the support, Sansa, but-”

“No, you don't understand! He loves you, he _never_ loved her.”

“But he's marrying _her_ , not _me_!”

“Well, since the trial, Robb has put the wedding on hold. Plus, with Uncle Edmure's wedding is coming up in a couple of months, everything been kind of crazy lately. Which, reminds me! You're going to be there, right? At Uncle Edmure's wedding.”

Myrcella sighed. On one hand, her heart broke every time she just hears his name, to actually see them together again just might be her undoing. But, at the same time, she would get to see Sansa again and, if she's lucky, maybe even Meera Reed who has also been a supportive friend to Myrcella since they met at the Marmmot wedding. “We received an invitation, yes.”

Myrcella could almost here Sansa roll her eyes, “That doesn't answer my question at all, Cella.”

She sighed, making sure to refrain from even mentioning Joffrey, replied listlessly, “Well, my mother and grandfather will be in court starting in May contesting my father's will. Tommen will have started uni by then so... I guess... I'll _have_ to go and represent the Lannister family.”

 

* * *

 

The two months Myrcella thought she had to come to terms with her warring heart, disappeared in a puff of spring smoke. Sooner than she would have liked, Myrcella found herself just inside the large oak doors of the hotel she was staying in for the Tully and Frey wedding.

The lobby of the Twin's Hotel and Resort was the only part of the entire hotel that connected the, otherwise, identical towers that rose on either side of the Green Fork. Myrcella walked into the surprisingly dark lobby and took in the large wooden beams that hung over head and the hardwood floors that added to the rustic atmosphere of the resort. It felt homely and quaint but it also felt depressing and a little back-woodsy for Myrcella's taste. After getting up at 6:30 in the morning to catch her flight, she arrived at the Riverrun Airport nearly an hour early. Not wanting to subject herself to the questionable brown liquid they served on the airplane, Myrcella decided that coffee would be her the first order of business when she got to the hotel. After leaving her larger bags with the concierge of the hotel, she pulled her smaller suitcase behind her and walked over to the café that doubled as a bar. She slid into a booth with her back to the rest of the establishment and looked around for a wait staff to take her order. Pulling out her phone to let her mother know that she had arrived at the hotel, Myrcella froze when she heard the harsh whispers that had penetrated from behind the partition. The table next to hers was obstructed from view by the wall that rose to about a foot above her head and a long frosted glass divider that extended to the ends of the booths that separated the cafe from the patio area, thus making it impossible for her to see the faces of the patrons of that table but she could recognize the voice from anywhere. It belonged to none other than Talisa Maegyr.

“Mr. Bolton, please understand-”

“No, Miss. Maegyr, I think I understand quite clearly what it is you are asking of me and Mr. Frey. You are asking to back out of a deal that _your_ mother initiated-”

“I understand how this must look-”

“And I hope you understand that if you interrupt me one more time, I will make sure that you will have to learn sign language to ever communicate again. Do I make myself clear?”

Talisa was silent so Myrcella assumed that she nodded her understanding of his threat. Myrcella knew it wasn't right to listen in on their conversation but she felt almost obligated to know why the Boltons are doing business with the Freys and the Maegyrs. Without thinking, she canceled the text message she was typing and turned on her voice recorder and placed it against the wall.

“Now, as I was saying... your mother brought this proposal to us and the Lannisters with the intention of getting the Maegyrs a portion of the “Stark wealth”. Now, I don't trust the Lannisters one bit, especially that old lion, Tywin. Given the chance, I'm sure he and his entire pride of filth will screw us all over. But just because you actually fell in love with the flea bag you call a fiancé doesn't mean that you get pull out of the deal. Mr. Frey put his own daughter in the hands of a _Tully_ when, in actuality, he had his eyes set on giving Roslin away to Robb Stark _years_ ago. Miss Maegyr, I'll try to put this as plain as possible for you so there are no misunderstandings: we will not back out of this merger. Stick to the plan.” His voice was coated in ice and steel. “You get Robb Stark to marry you, get the information that Tywin needs so he can run Stark Industries into the ground, and then you can file a divorce when you tell him that he's been carrying on an affair with Myrcella Baratheon and you can sue him for every penny to his name, giving your mother what she wants. Edmure Tully will marry Roslin today and sign over fifty-one percent of Tully  & Tully Company to her, thus giving Mr. Frey what he wants. Since only little crippled Bran Stark is in Winterfell right now with that wild brother of his, my wicked son will be able to create an “accident” of sorts at the Winterfell manor that will leave the Starks without a single heir to their legacy, just as I want. And without a Stark there, the Northern Industries shareholders will come to Bolton Enterprise, thus making the Freys and myself a shattering amount of money because we will see the Stark stocks plummet before it happens. As you can see, this is the only way we will all be men of our word.”

 _'As if ethics mean absolutely anything to the Boltons or the Freys_. _'_ Myrcella thought venomously.

A throaty chuckle came then, like rubbing sandpaper on chalkboard, belonging to none other than Walder Frey, “ 'Cept you, sweetheart... cause yer a woman. Although, in mah opinion, yer more slut than woman anyway-”

There was a minor shuffle and it sounded like Talisa stood up quickly and nearly knocked over her chair.

Mr. Frey chortled as he drawled, “Right, right, stand up just like that. I like the angle yer tits are at. Give us a nice twirl, sweetheart, so we can take a good look at that tight ass of yers-”

“Now, Mr. Frey, slut or no, Miss. Maegyr is a _very_ important piece in our plan. We must be at least affable to our partners.” There was no kindness nor amiable disposition in the way the Bolton man said it to the point where Myrcella was sure that he didn't mean a single thing he just said but for the sake of Talisa not causing a scene, he diplomatically spoke the words he had no intention of implementing himself.

“I _am_ being 'ffable. She lucky I'm even giving her the time o' day.”

His partner chuckled, “That she is,” There was the sound of a chair being pushed back. “I believe we are done here, Miss. Maegyr.”

Myrcella kept her face turned away from the entrance and heard the gravely voice of Walder Frey once more, “Didn't 'dey teach ya in “marriage scams one o' one” _not_ ta fall fer yer target, sweetheart?”

“Excuse me, miss. Would you like to start off with some coffee?”

A waiter had arrived at her table without her realizing and snapped Myrcella out of her deep concentration. She paused for a second and said that she would very much like some but in a to-go cup (with room for cream). The moment that the waiter returned with her coffee, she threw down a couple of bills, snatched up her phone with the recording and her roller-bag before she dashed out of the café.

 

* * *

 

Renly called her the moment he arrived at the hotel to met up in her room, saying that Stannis was on his way and should be arriving in less than 20 minutes. Settling on the balcony of her room, Myrcella made some tea with what was available in the room and looked out over the river that rushed by, twenty stories below her. The morning marine layer had already burned off, leaving behind a beautiful morning filled with sunshine and a cloudless sky, a traditionally good omen for a wedding day. A knock on her door signaled the arrival of her uncle, so Myrcella made her way to the door and opened it.

Only instead of Renly, Sansa Stark and Meera Reed stood beaming brightly at her.

“Hi! Oh, it's so good to see you again,” Myrcella wrapped her arms gently around Sansa's neck and pulled her in for a tight hug. Unwinding herself from Sansa, Myrcella gleefully hugged Meera and ushered them both inside.

Myrcella sat anxiously as Sansa and Meera got situated and took a tentative sip of the tea.

“You're looking great, Sansa.” Myrcella said tentatively, giving her an encouraging smile.

Sansa blushed lightly. “Thanks, Cella. I've been doing a lot better lately.”

Meera smiled her secretive smile. “Would that be because your therapist happens to be the illustrious and wickedly handsome Willas Tyrell?”

Sansa's blushed turned into an all out flush matching the pretty auburn shade of her hair. “N-no!”

Myrcella's eyes widened, “Wait. You've been going to therapy with _Willas Tyrell._ Were you planning not to tell me? I'm hurt Sansa.” Myrcella dramatically sobbed against the table, trying to mask her anxiety which, coupled with the coffee from earlier, was not helping her stomach.

Sansa shook her head defensively, “No, no, no! I've only switched over to Willas this past week. My last two therapists weren't working out for me and so I decided to try hypnotherapy which Willas Tyrell happens to be a specialist in. Loras gave me Willas' business card and we've set-up an appointment for once a week. We've only had one session and... uhm...”

“How was the test ride?” Meera asked teasingly.

“Meera! It's not like that. Willas is extremely professional.”

“Professionally hot.” Meera said into her cup of tea. She smiled as the warm liquid coated her tongue.

Sansa's blush furiously but did not deny it as another knock from behind the door echoed through the room.

Myrcella got up and went to open the door. Renly grinned handsomely at her, saying that he had just finished checking into his room.

“Myrcella, you are looking radiant as always... but what is this? A frown to mar such a perfect face? Come now, tell me what's bothering you?”

She tried to force a smile but with everything that had happened this morning, Myrcella felt her stomach twist into knots. Unable to bare all the burden herself any longer, Myrcella confessed, “Uncle Renly, something bad is going to happen at the wedding tonight.”

“Yes, I know.”

Myrcella was stunned, “You do?”

Renly nodded gravely, “Yes, Stannis is going to be wearing that horrid yellow and black suit that belonged to our father. It looks awful on him-”

“No! Uncle Renly! This is serious!”

“I know! I wish he brought at least an extra suit with him-”

“Uncle Renly! I think Roose Bolton and Walder Frey are going to screw over everyone at this wedding!”

Renly narrowed his eyes suspiciously before saying, “What do mean? Like... they're not going to offer gifts for the guest to take home?”

Myrcella rolled her eyes before saying, “No! Mr. Bolton and Mr. Frey are going to get Edmure Tully to sign over 51% of Tully and Tully Company to Roslin Frey, giving Walder Frey control over the Riverland's shipping and exportation industry. And then-” realizing that Sansa and Meera were silent and listening in on the conversation, Myrcella thought it would be best not to worry Sansa and say, “And then... I'm worried about the state of Baratheon Incorporated seeing as... as the mjaority of our shipping is done through Tully and Tully. I need to talk to you and Uncle Stannis. And, now that I think about it, Ned Stark as well.”

Turning towards the two girls at the small wooden table, Myrcella asked, “Sansa. Could I please get your father's phone number. In all the chaos that happened in Storm's End, I didn't get a chance to get his number there.”

Sansa nodded and took Myrcella's phone from her, programmed her father's number into it before handing it back with a worried expression, “What's the matter, Cella? Is something wrong?”

Myrcella gave Sansa her most reassuring smile she could muster despite the urge to vomit rolled through her body, “Oh, just business stuff. I'm just a worrier, that's all.”

As if understanding what had just transpired, Meera gave Myrcella a slight nod before saying, “Sansa, I think we should go and get ready for the wedding. We can catch up with Myrcella at the reception.”

Sansa gasped when she looked at her watch and nodded vigorously before politely saying her good-byes. Meera turned to look at Myrcella one last time, as if to say “you better explain later” and received an grateful smile from Myrcella.

The moment, the door closed, Myrcella turned to Renly and said, “Please ask Uncle Stannis to join us immediately. I'll call Ned Stark right now.”

 

* * *

 

When the playback on the recording was finished, Myrcella looked up at the faces of the four men that were there. Stannis, Renly, Ned Stark, and Robb all sat around the table while Myrcella leaned against the kitchen counter.

Renly shook his head in disgust. “That is most definitely Roose Bolton. I've only met Walder Frey a handful of times, and each time, I like him even less.”

Robb turned to his father, anger like nothing she had ever witnessed, shone bright in his Tully blue eyes, “We must do something about this. Immediately.”

Stannis nodded in agreement but didn't offer anything beyond that.

Ned Stark stared into the half empty cup of tea that Myrcella served them before saying, “That was very clever of you to catch all of this on tape, Myrcella. Quick thinking. And knowing you, I'm sure that you have a... preliminary plan of action.” All the men looked to her and waited as she slowly nodded.

“Well, first things first, we have to get the police to Winterfell manor as soon as possible. The problem is, we can't go in guns blazing. We have to catch Ramsey Bolton in the act or else we might end up with something like the Storm's End trial.”

Ned's eyes flashed with anger before he reined himself in.

Myrcella took a deep breath before continuing, “I would suggest that we contact Jon. See if he knows any of the officers in the Winterfell PD. Put in a covert request so that if there's a mole in the police department, Ramsey Bolton wouldn't be alerted immediately.”

Robb jumped in then and said, “I know an officer who just got into the Winterfell police department. I'm sure that he could put in a word into the chief to see if there might be a way that they could send in a Special Ops group.”

“Can we trust him?” Myrcella asked.

Robb smiled, “With my life.”

Ned nodded, “Call him. Tell him just what he needs to know.”

Robb grabbed his phone and went out onto the balcony to make the phone call.

Myrcella heaved a sigh before, she turned back to the rest of the men.

Ned Stark quietly said, “As for the Stark Industries, I'm sure everything will be okay once we have Talisa Maegyr in custody.”

Myrcella's stomach twisted. She couldn't help but feel horrible about how they were going to handle Talisa. She wanted the Maegyr woman to stop messing with the Stark family but she didn't want her to have to go to jail, even if she may very well deserve it.

“You said you wanted to talk to us about Baratheon Incorporated as well, Myrcella?” Renly nudged

Myrcella broke from her thoughts, nodding as she grabbed a stack of papers, “Yes. I had Petyr Baelish fax over to the hotel a copy of my father's will.” She looked up to see Robb step back into the room before continuing, “And to also write up a new contract. I would like to sign over my title as CEO of Baratheon Incorporated to my uncles. They will serve as co-chiefs of the company.”

Everyone in the room was stunned.

It was Stannis who spoke up, breaking the silence, “You don't have to do this because you feel like you can't handle the position. We will help you adjust to your responsibilities-”

“Uncle Stannis, it's not that I'm scared of taking over the company or even the responsibilities that the position entails. I just know myself well enough to see that there are people far more qualified at taking over the family business than myself. Just because my father loved me, does not immediately make me the best candidate for this position. I do believe that the future of the company should be in the hands of a Baratheon, just not my hands.” No one made an quips that she was technically not a Baratheon but seeing as Robert himself saw Myrcella worthy of the name, no one else saw any issue with her title staying as it had always been.

Ned Stark leaned forward his fingers laced together in front of him, his brows furrowed in deep thought, “Miss. Myrcella, you do understand what you will be giving up with this decision, don't you? Not only will you be giving up your position and everything that comes with that but you will also be depriving the company of the opportunity to grow your management. New ways of thinking and administering so that the company can move forward with the times. Your father and I discussed this at length and we believe, with all due respect to your uncles, the company is in desperate need of new blood and you were going to be the first of many changes that was to be implemented once you were introduced to the board of directors.”

Myrcella never imagined that her father thought that far ahead. To a certain extent, Myrcella had always believed that Robert only cared about surface issues such as profits and financial losses and was content with simply being the face of the company, something that Myrcella, if she were CEO of Baratheon Incorporated, would not be satisfied with doing. She wanted to get her hands dirty, rub elbow grease with the employees, personally greet every single new worker, and restructure the entire way of thinking. Ned was right: the company was stuck in the middle ages and was in dire need for a new manifesto.

Myrcella looked up to see each of the men smile at her as if when they saw the resolve in her eyes witnessed the epiphany that she had come to realize.

Renly reached over and placed a warm hand over hers and smiled, “We will be there every step of the way.”

Ned turned to Robb and inquired, “What did Theon say?”

“He wants you to call their chief and talk to him directly.”

Ned nodded before turning back to the table, “If we are done here, excuse gentlemen, Miss. Myrcella.”

Once Ned had left Renly and Stannis thought it best to leave Myrcella to get ready for the wedding which was in just under an hour. Renly came by and gave Myrcella a grand hug before pulling back and tucking a stray lock of golden hair behind her ear. “Don't worry, your pretty little head over this, Myrcella. Everything will work out somehow, you'll see. I know that you didn't plan on taking over the company, especially when you're still so young but sometimes we have to do things that we don't want to do. Sometimes, we have to look beyond ourselves.” Myrcella looked down at the newly drawn up contract and hoped that she had what it took not to royally screw up this opportunity. Renly followed her eyes and picked up the piece of paper before folding it in half and placed it back on the stack of the contract, “In the long run, everyone will be better off this way. And you'll be able to build something that will stand the test of time.”

Renly's conviction was so assured that, for just a few moments, Myrcella believed it to be true.

 

* * *

 

Robb was standing outside on the balcony, his head hung in his hands, eyes closed, as he tried to drown out all the chaos that was closing in on him. “May I join you?”

Not looking up, Robb grunted, “Not unless you come baring alcohol.” He felt Myrcella glide up next to him.

“Nope. Just re-heated coffee.”

Robb sighed and peeked up at her. She had a sad smile on her beautiful face and two steaming cups of coffee in her hands. “Perfect. A disappointing drink for a equally disappointing day.”

He thanked her for the cup anyway and took a tentative sip. The warmth of the drink filled him from the depths of his stomach to the cockles of his heart. “Not bad for re-heated coffee...” And yet, he still could do little more than sigh listlessly.

“How are you taking all of this?” Myrcella ask cautiously.

“Well... this was not exactly how I had planned on talking to Talisa about the wedding.” Robb said with a heavy heart as he turned back around and stared out into the distance, his eyes clouded with ache, fueled by anger and betrayal. Myrcella knew that even though Robb may have had his reservations about Talisa, he still cared enough about her to know that he is completely crushed about the entire affair. “You were right... weddings are nothing more than an excuse for backdoor deals to go down off the clock.”

It was killing Myrcella to see Robb in so much anguish.

“I'm so sorry, Robb.” Myrcella said as she reached out to rub his back but then pulled back. The gesture was meant to be comforting but Myrcella wasn't sure how Robb would take it and decided to just allow the silence settle over them.

After what seemed like hours, Robb finally cleared his throat and turned to ask, “What are you going to do about Walder Frey and Roose Bolton?”

Myrcella's ire reignited at the mention of their name and it showed in her dark tone, “There's nothing quite like having an excuse to set a misogynistic pig in his place. So, I made a few phone calls to a certain spider back home and hopefully, if all goes well, I will liquify their sorry asses and make sure that they will forever fear the Baratheons. They may not trust the Lannisters now, but they will cower in dread at the mere whisper of my name.”

Robb's rich baritone chuckle filled the air as he shook his head, “Cella?”

Myrcella looked up at him with large doe-like green eyes, “Hmm?”

“Remind me to never piss you off.”

Myrcella giggled in return and, before she knew it, Robb took the cup from her hand. He placed it on the glass table next to his ( _when did that happen?_ ) and then proceeded to wrap his arms around her. Myrcella was sure he could feel the rapid race of her heartbeat but he didn't pull back or comment on it. He simply held her and she, who never had the strength to deprive herself of the simple pleasures of being in his presence, allowed herself to sink into his embrace.

“I don't wanna leave this balcony. Ever.” His voice was clear as day, it carried his anxieties like Atlas holding up the sky.

Myrcella nodded against his chest before she remembered what Renly said to her just a few minutes earlier. Figuring that Robb could do with some words of wisdom, Myrcella pulled back so that she can look into his clouded azure eyes, “Sometimes we have to do things that we don't want to do and look beyond ourselves and our wants. It may not seem like it, but everything will find a way of righting itself.”

Robb slid his hands down over her shoulders, tracing the tips of his fingers over her arms, leaving little goosebumps in their wake, and ending their journey by lacing his long, lean fingers with hers, “This feels right. _This_ feels like the universe is righting itself. I have never felt more calm than when I'm in your arms.”

Myrcella gnawed at her lower lips trying to blink back the tears that threatened to fall any second. “There will come a time when you will never have to leave them. But not yet. Not just yet.”

Robb nodded before he gathered her up in his arms once more. Taking a deep breath of his scent (aftershave, woodsy pine, and winter winds) Myrcella clung to him. Clung to the hope that maybe there was a chance for them. Clung to him because she was sure he needed this more than her. Clung to the potential for happiness... before he had to let her go.

 

* * *

 

 

The reception was as boisterous and festive as any wedding could be in such a dreary and dark reception hall. It was a miracle that the staff didn't trip over each other as they flitted about delivering warm plates of food and ever flowing champagne to approximately 150 guests. Myrcella was seated with Meera and Talisa at the Stark table and was trying her absolute best to not even look over at Robb. The conversation at the table was subdued with only Sansa and Catelyn Stark carrying a nearly exclusive conversation amongst themselves, Meera leaned over and nudged Myrcella to explain to her the reason she had to usher the pretty Stark girl from the room in such a haste. Myrcella looked around the table and her eyes fell to Talisa, who was pushing around her food on her plate. Not being able to stand the sight of her any longer, Myrcella stood up and leaned over Sansa, telling her that she and Meera will be in the powder room.

Not until she was in the sanctuary of the hotel restroom and triple checked to make sure that all the stalls were empty and the main door was locked, did Myrcella turn to Meera and divulged what had happened. Meera was quiet the entire time, listening with silent reverence. Finally when Myrcella had brought Meera up to speed with everything, Meera still said nothing, just watched Myrcella with that hunter's gaze, as if she was trying to penetrate something within Myrcella. Or maybe she was simply trying to process everything that Myrcella had just told her.

Meera eventually nodded before she let out a sigh in a puff of air. She moved forward slowly and then she wrapped her arms around Myrcella's shoulders. “I know you don't want anyone to be alerted in Winterfell but I'm going to have to disappoint you.”

Myrcella tensed, and for one split second, she doubted her friendship with Meera.

Meera quietly chuckled at Myrcella's reaction and then said softly, “I'm worried about Jojen. He went up to Winterfell to keep Rickon and Bran company. So, I'm sorry but I'm just going to call him to make sure he's okay.”

Myrcella visibly relaxed in Meera's arms and nodded, “I understand.”

Meera pulled back with a sympathetic smile. “I'll tell him to act as naturally as possible so that the police can catch the bastard in action.”

Myrcella returned the smile. “Well, let's hope this friend of Robb's pulls through and get's the job done.”

Meera regarded Myrcella for a moment before she said matter of factly, “Robb is going to leave Talisa Maegyr.”

The Baratheon girl nodded, her eyes filled with pain.

“But you are not happy.”

Myrcella scoffed, “How can you tell?”

“Because when I said her name you didn't get mad or jealous... you just got really sad.”

Myrcella couldn't bring herself to deny it; she truly pitied the girl. Myrcella knew what it was like to love someone so much that you are willing to risk your neck to save the person you love.

“When did you know you were in love with him?” Meera asked taking Myrcella's hand in hers.

Myrcella shrugged weakly. “I don't know. It wasn't something struck me like lightening over night. It was slow building. Like... rain working away at a coarse stone. The stone, unmoving and strong but rain was patient and steady and soon... without seeking praise or acknowledgment, the rain wore away at the jagged edges and the rough surface of the stone, until it was smooth as silk, never asking for anything in return. And then, all at once, it was as if the stone had been smooth all along. The rain had etched its way into the heart of the stone, leaving it bare, beautiful, and unique... for all the world to see.”

Meera nodded and placed her head on Myrcella's shoulder. Myrcella sighed and followed in suit and placed her's atop Meera's. They stood their in silence, taking in everything that had transpired through that conversation.

Just then, Myrcella's phone buzzed. Recognizing the number, she mumbled a quick apology to Meera before she picked up the call, “Yes, Varys.”

“The deed has been completed, Miss. Myrcella,” his voice filtered in from the receiver, “The officers should be descending upon the hotel as we speak.”

Myrcella took a shaky breath. “Okay. Thank you once again, Varys. I know you had to call in a few favors for this so I really appreciate this.”

“I am always looking out for the well being of the economy. This was the best plan of action for everyone. I'm just glad that it just so happens to serve as a benefit to you as well.”

“Well, either way, thank you.”

“Always a pleasure to serve your family, Miss.”

Myrcella hit the “end” button before turning to Meera as she proceeded to unlock the heavy oak door of the public restroom. “We have to get going.” Myrcella was sure as hell not going to miss this for the world.

They arrived back to the reception hall right as Edmure and Roslin were asking for people to come up and say a few words. “That's my queue.” Myrcella whispered to Meera over her shoulder. The Reed girl nodded and stepped to the side, huddling in a secluded corner to most likely call her brother.

As Myrcella made her way to the stage, she saw Robb falling into step beside her, “Is it about to go down?”

Myrcella could see that he was worried and as much as she wanted to comfort him, she knew she had a job to do first.

She shot him an incredulous look, “I have no idea what you're talking about. I'm just going to go up there and make a speech so good, that you will cringe at the idea of following me.”

Robb laughed wholeheartedly, “Are you sure about that? Because I used to play sports in high school, so I can whip up a pretty mean speech.”

“I won't say anymore than that. I'll just let my skills speak for themselves.”

Roslin waved Myrcella up to the stage and gave her a quick hug before she handed the young Baratheon the microphone.

“Aww, look at them, aren't they just the cutest things ever?” Myrcella chuckled as the room filled with cheer and swoons. Myrcella looked out into the room filled with people and saw, near the center of the room, Roose Bolton, surrounded by shareholders, associates, and business partners, sat back at complete ease and comfort.

“Good evening friends, family, and distinguished guests. What an honor it is to be up here speaking on behalf of the Lannister and Baratheon family. I would first like to commend the Frey family on a job well done; this is an amazing reception. Mr. Frey, could you stand up so we could appalud the amazing work you and your family have done?" Myrcella waited until she saw that Walder Frey bregrudingly stood up and accepted the roar of applause from the main table. "Absolutely stunning. Thank you. Tonight, with the joining of such influential families, I'm sure my father would have had something... _verbose_ to say.” Light chuckles and laughter could be heard around the room, as the doors from the side of the hall opened to reveal a dozen uniformed federal investigators. “But tonight, you've got me. And I just want to say: Edmure, Roslin, I truly hope for the best for you two. Life is hard and love makes it a whole lot easier to deal with. Love doesn't consist of only gazing into each others eyes ( as you two have been clear doing all night long!), but looking outward, together, in the same direction with the hopes of building a future that will be better than today. And with that, I hope that you would accept this gift on behalf of Lannister Corporations, I would like to present to you, Bolton Enterprise. Mr. Roose Bolton, would you please stand so that we can applaud your brave and bold choice to hand the Bolton empire over to the next generation of bright minds and pioneer management, such as Edmure and Roslin.” Roose looked like a man caught between a mountain and an army of hungry wolves. He looked around frantically, his eyes searching for Walder Frey but he was no where to be found. Soon, Roose's his associates began descending on him, demanding where their investments have gone and why he did not include them in the discussion of selling his company to the new Tully couple.

Then the police came. Roose ran, pushing servers and chairs over in his wake, until he got to the emergency exit door, where Ned Stark stood and knocked him to the ground with one strong fist to the gut. The commotion left the crowd stunned. They didn't know what to make of the man from the North, as he was hand cuffed and push towards the other end of the room. As they passed by the stage, Myrcella's angelic smile caused the man to lunge at the young Baratheon heir. She didn't even blink as the officers pulled him back, Myrcella looked straight into his crazed eyes and murmured sweetly, “The Lannisters send their regards.”

Hell hath no fury like a Baratheon scorned.

 

* * *

 

“ _Last night, authorities arrested Ramsey Snow and his two accomplices at the Winterfell manor in what is reported to have been a murder attempt on the lives of 15 year old Bran Stark and 13 year old Rickon Stark. Their care-taker Luwin was critically injured during the attack but has been reported to be in stable condition, as of this morning. Roose Bolton, estranged father and only known relative to Ramsey Snow, had no comment on the case as he (along with Walder Frey) was arrested earlier that day for conspiracy to commit murder and industrial espionage. Talisa Maegyr, who contacted authorities of their plan, confessed to being a corporate spy within the Stark Industries as well as an accomplice to coup. This large and intricate plan was an attempt at capitalizing and, eventually, monopolizing the Northern Industries and the Riverland Companies. The trial of Roose Bolton, Walder Frey, and Talisa Maegyr will take place following the trial of Ramsey Snow. Back to you Shelby-_ ”

Myrcella turned off the television set inside her hotel room and threw the remote onto the bed before walking to the door. She was surprised to see Jon Snow, standing outside her door.

“Jon. Hi. What are you doing here?” Myrcella asked as she step back to let him in.

Jon didn't say anything for a few moments then looked straight at Myrcella and said evenly, “I found out who framed Gendry for your father's murder.”


End file.
